On My Own
by thesunshinekid
Summary: Sequel to So Fair and Foul a Day: When a vampire stalker threatens the Cullens, they call in three friends to keep him in his place. But not even Alice could predict that one of them would fall for this rogue...
1. Utterly Terrifying

**Author's Note: Hello all! I have returned, with the next installment to the Johnson's story – with even more Cullen goodness than the last one!**

**My title is a reference to the number, "On My Own" from Les Miserables, as well as a reflection of Lisa's character.**

**Since my characters reside in Scotland, I'm using a few British terms (though I'm not writing in full-on-British-English grammar and spelling); for any American readers, I'll define the important ones in the beginning of a chapter. This chapter: "car park" is a parking lot, "Learner's plate" is a red "L" magnet placed on the car of a learning driver (I think these would be**** really helpful here in the US), and "wellies" are short for "wellington boots;"****the American equivalent is "galoshes" or "rain boots," ****"Burns Day" is a Scottish holiday celebrating the life and work of Robert ("Rabbie") Burns.**** I also highly recommend the free Google Earth download; its loads of fun and can give you some perspective as to these locations. (Muchalls is a real village, as is West Calder; Carlisle will be working at a real hospital – my mum once worked there - and Aberdeen and Edinburgh are, of course, exceptionally real.)**

**And, finally: I own neither Twilight nor its respective characters.**

Chapter One:

Utterly Terrifying

"Make a right turn back into the car park." The test evaluator instructed. I remembered Edward's advice as I flipped on the indicators.

_"Keep calm, and think clea__rly. This is the part where it's easy __to __get cocky and make mistakes."_

I parked neatly, straightening the automobile with deft vampire skill, and turned to see the test evaluator's reaction.

"Good job – you've passed." He scrambled to find the right words, and I shifted my eyes, instead watching the rain pounding against the windshield. It was easy to forget the power of my eyes upon an unprepared human; a look that would have left my siblings eyes rolling could render a normal man immovable.

I smiled and turned off the engine, pulling up the hood of my rain jacket as we returned to the bleak brick building for the printing of my new driver's license. I mentally celebrated, but remained the vision of calm and collected while I stood in yet another line.

I was driving home, thankful to be able to take off the embarrassing Learner's plate, Edward Cullen sitting comfortably in the passenger's seat. He had taught me everything he knew about British road laws and road conditions and how to drive a stick shift (and how not to get caught at outrageous speeds on deserted country roads). I had thanked him profusely already, but I took a minute to express my gratitude once more.

"Thanks again for teaching me to drive. I know it took up plenty of your time, and I'm not exactly the most talented of drivers, so thank you for your patience."

"Lisa," he chuckled as he fiddled with the music volume, "I like cars, and I like driving. I didn't mind one bit. Right now, you should be proud that the United Kingdom deems you worthy to grace its roads with your maneuvering skills. It's a much harder test to pass than any in the U.S."

Once we had returned to the pretty cottage a mile outside of Muchalls, a small seaside village less than half an hour away from Aberdeen, I said goodbye to our family friend. Unable to feel the bitter cold of the wind and wet, I watched Edward speed off in his dark, shiny sports car; he had a three-hour drive back to West Calder, though I wouldn't be surprised if he made it in half the time.

Standing on the old stone doorstep, fitting my key into the lock on the large wooden door, I remembered the first time my family had walked into this house. There was no joy or light in anyone's eyes – we could not look forward to a new life, because we were so ashamed of the past. Josh would look no one in the eye; he would hole himself up in his room with his tattered Bible, rereading those familiar passages that he could recite with ease, as if searching for something. Molly would watch her brother, and her usually happy demeanor would dissipate; she blamed herself for his melancholy, and could not bring herself to paint or photograph or even chat for hours on the phone with Alice Cullen. Try as I might, I was powerless to do anything for my brother and sister when they were in such dull spirits.

Hanging my wet jacket by the door and slipping off my "wellies," I listened to the almost tangible difference since we'd arrived. I could hear Molly humming as she developed photos in her old-fashioned dark room – she'd taken to choosing the best of the local scenery and quaint old buildings, and framing them for various rooms throughout the house. Josh was playing a game on the wallboard in the living room, with his own comical running commentary as he crashed cars and lost points.

"And there she goes! Boom! One down, 21 more to _destroy_. Watch out little blue Ferrari!"

I sorted through the mail alert on the wallboard in the kitchen – all bills, and all low. As vampires, we moved quickly through showers, required neither heating nor cooling, and could see clearly even during the darkest of nights. We liked to run the electricity a little, to keep suspicion away and to enjoy the marvels of modern technology, but I couldn't imagine the amount we had saved over the years from not flushing toilets or needing to frequently brush our teeth.

I moved quickly up the narrow staircase and into my room. The simple green upholstered armchairs, with matching curtains over the window; a fluffy sheepskin rug; a matching antique wardrobe, coffee table, and desk; the room was simple and functional, fitting both my own personality, and the house's charm.

I pulled a worn notebook from the desk, and a pen. I wasn't a huge fan of the inconveniences of this old style of writing, but there was something more intimate about a handwritten diary.

_January 19__th__, 2108_

_Today, I got my British driver__'__s license. It took me long enough! At least now, when we spend Burns Day with the Cullens, we won't have to rely on anyone else for transportation._

_I don't really see why the Cullens insist on celebrating a trivial Scottish holiday – we can't eat a traditional haggis, we aren't even Scottish, and Burns is long dead – it's not like he'll be offended. I think Esme just likes any excuse to have us all together; she likes to refer to us as her "extended family" – like second cousins or something, I suppose. Not that I mind – I like the variety of our dear friends; the conversation and a few good laughs._

_Next Goal: Become further acquainted with Robert Burns poetry before said holiday. _

I returned the notebook and pen to the desk drawer, being precise in my placement. I had been keeping short records of my daily life for years – I didn't want eternity to become a mishmash of endless days and nights, doing nothing and learning little. My diary had become a sort of achievements list – and I really liked lists. I liked order, being able to see things in a line and think straight, being able to check things off – the sense of accomplishment.

I also liked mystery novels. I moved towards Josh's now-occupied room, voicing my desire.

"Do you have the Bubb Cusack?"

Josh made a vague motion towards the shelves in the furthest corner of the room. I never understood how he grouped his library – alphabetically or by genre or preference? It always confounded me, but I didn't feel the need to ask. My organization, like his faith, was a point of contention within the coven. He and Molly accepted that I would clean up behind them, if they left a mess in the public areas of the house, but I could not criticize their personal spaces. As an unspoken rule, we kept our idiosyncrasies to ourselves.

"Thank you," I sang as I turned back towards my room.

"Cheerful much?" He didn't look up from _Heart of Darkness_; he wasn't doing himself any favors reading such depressing material. I would have suggested some lighter material, but I considered it providence that he was reading something other than theology nowadays.

"I've got my driver's license." I pulled out the card from its slot on my handheld. "Exciting, isn't it?"

I heard his mutter when I reached the hallway.

"Utterly terrifying."


	2. Shopping and Ruminations

**Author's No****te: **

**Vocabulary lesson for the chapter****: A "car boot sale" is probably closely equivalent to American "flea market" or a mass "garage sale." The "boot" of a car is the American "trunk." "Sterling" is the name for the pounds and pence system; Britain doesn't use the euro.**** I explain it in the chapter, but a "vacuum cleaner" is a "****hoover****" – and can ****be made into a verb; "hovering,****"**** like "vacuuming."****A "roundabout" is a "Traffic Circle" – American'****s do****n't deal with them**** very well****, which is really amusing to watch****, since the roundabouts**** vastly outnumber ****the ****traffic lights in the UK.**

Chapter Two

Shopping and Ruminations

I passed by the table promoting a new type of fried cheesecake, shaking my head. Josh said the world _he'd_ lived in was all about clogged arteries – at sixty-eight, I had outlived most of today's humans, whose expected life span was fifty-five years. Dr. Cullen had despaired of helping his older patients many years ago; he was now one of the most talented pediatric surgeons in the world, though for safety's sake, not well-recognized.

The next table in the "car boot sale" hosted piles of old books. Molly loved browsing these second-hand sales, looking for articles with, as she put it, "a history to them." Josh used to love finding more obscure books, worn with age and well-loved; though his spirits were much improved, he still did not trust himself enough to immerse himself in modern culture once again.

"I have no confidence in my temper, in my old habits yet – I don't want to put people at risk." He'd claimed. He did like to venture into the village with Molly, to watch the small boats in the harbor or exclaim over the little treasures they found in its quaint shops. But, the village provided a quick escape into the surrounding fields and woods, and back to our house in only a matter of minutes. The city of Aberdeen was, I admit, far less protected were a thirsty vampire to find himself in its center.

I scanned the titles, finding a relatively-intact copy of _Nicholas __Nickleby_ – Josh loved Dickens in the same way that I favored Descartes. I considered calling him to see if he already had this particular tome in his library, but decided against it. I read most books on my handheld; I preferred the intricacies of science and technology, and the ease with which I never lost my place on the page and didn't have to deal with the weight of a lengthier volume. To my brother, there was some magic in holding a copy in his hand – and rare as they were becoming, I'm sure he wouldn't mind another precious book. There was some novel-exchange between him and Bella Swan (who, for practicality's sake, had kept her maiden name), Edward Cullen often playing messenger-boy.

My musings continued as I picked up a well-worn copy of _L'Etranger_. Camus' existentialism made my head swim, but my brother would probably appreciate it – he loved to debate French philosophy with Edward Cullen or Jasper Hale.

"The Dickens and the Camus, miss?" The man behind the table asked as I pulled out my cash card.

"How much?" I asked, knowing that intact printings ran pretty steep these days.

"Two-hundred." He pronounced slowly, knowing the weight of his words. I did the math without thinking; at today's exchange rates, two-hundred in sterling would equal nearly seven-hundred in the US dollar. I was instantly thankful for the almost nonstop inflation in the last two decades – though I certainly had the money to spare; instead of returning to my business studies, I was using my degree in accounting to work for a small firm in the outskirts of the city. Josh had _joked_ that it had been my looks that ensured my place, rather than my accreditation. _Innocent and naïve,_ I thought to myself. He relied on my modesty too much; I could flirt and dazzle with the best of them – no one would hire a woman of my purported age otherwise. What Joshua didn't know wouldn't hurt him – or his opinion of me, the coven leader.

"No problem," I swiped my card through his handheld as it gleaned the necessary information. I couldn't imagine a world where money was represented in paper and coins; Molly reminded me that times were slower back then. I liked the fast pace of progress and technology.

It was unusual, in our unnatural, subversive universe, for the youngest member of the coven to become the leader. I certainly hadn't set out to take the job – it seemed to have fallen into my lap. In our faked stories, I was always the oldest; I suppose a natural deference to my opinion had formed between my brother and sister. Molly, with her teenage sensibility, was in no way cut out for decision-making, though she was the oldest. I did not know her story – I believed that no one did – but I knew that her past had led her to a point where she'd rather enjoy her carefree life as a teenager.

I liked order; I looked at decisions objectively; I wrote lists of pros and cons. I did not _lead_ per se, but I was in charge.

I never wanted to be a leader; I had no delusions of grandeur. To go to school, to do my best, to spend hours in a lab working a small-but-significant job; researching and problem-solving was my domain. I liked math games and logic puzzles; I liked to take apart electronics and put them back together - in better working order than the original. I wasn't given to emotion, like my two siblings; I liked the laws of physics and nature. Lisa Johnson was a woman of hard facts and statistics.

It wouldn't be long before I started on a medical degree – my aptitude for the sciences would certainly be of no hindrance to me. I admired what Dr. Cullen had accomplished; what his advanced abilities allowed him to do. Nonetheless, even his strongest son, with his multiple degrees in medicine, had not the strength to practice. I wouldn't aspire to anything higher.

Putting the books away in my oversized tote-bag – the most practical thing Alice Cullen had forced on me this decade – I continued my musings as I came upon an aging vacuum cleaner, a British "hoover." Possibilities started soaring through my mind as I made a mental checklist – this would be fun. I purchased the machine, folding it up into my bag, and pulling out my handheld to locate my sister.

"Are you ready to go yet?"

"I've found so much!" Molly squealed excitedly, and I saw her hurrying between stalls, her own more fashionable tote bag overflowing with knick-knacks. Some items would decorate our small house, adding "charm;" other items would be destined for artsy projects, to be made into photograph frames and lampshades and bags and hand-sewn fashion statements. "Did you find anything?"

"A couple of books for Josh," I said, "And a vacuum cleaner."

Molly made a face. "You're odd."

"You just noticed?" I responded, feeling a little more jovial with the prospect of the vacuum cleaner. "I'm not the one with a fuzzy snake hanging from my bag."

"Way to put a damper on my fun." She grumbled at my tease, trudging along behind me to find the parked car.

As we made our way through the country road towards Muchalls, Molly pulled the books from my tote-bag.

"These will put a smile on his face." She agreed with my choices.

"He is smiling now," I reminded her, thankful to his God that he had begun to cheer up, finally.

"But it doesn't reach his eyes," Molly said, as I pulled to a stop at a roundabout, and turned to look at her.

"Surely you've noticed?" She questioned, as I started moving again.

I smiled sheepishly. It was the pitfall to my own talents – I didn't pick up quite so easily on others' emotions.

"You've done so much for him," I sighed, "I wish I could offer my own help."

"You understand how he feels, don't you?" Molly began. I nodded sullenly; memories I wasn't desperate to return to.

"What would you have wanted during those times? Advice? A hug? Some nice novels you'd appreciate?" She suggested. I chuckled; I probably had hit the right chord with the novels. I didn't have the close relationship with my brother as my sister did; I knew that they considered me distant, but really, we just didn't have things in common.

Josh did like the books; he gave me a hug and a kiss on the cheek, and when I came home from work the next day, I found a message on the wallboard in the kitchen.

_Thank you, Thank you, and Thank you! _

_I downloaded the really old movie version of Nicholas __Nickleby__ – we'll watch it tonight while marveling over how much Charlie __Hunnam__ looks like Dr. Cullen._

I laughed as I read it. I could picture how the evening would proceed; Josh would insist that we all change into comfortable-but-unnecessary pajama pants and old hunting t-shirts; we'd pull the sofa cushions onto the floor, and unroll sleeping bags; Josh and I would watch the movie while Molly painted my toenails; afterwards, we'd all play card games until the sun rose.

And maybe, we'd see more of Josh's big, goofy grin.

**Reviews are appreciated.**


	3. Burns Day

**Author's Note: This chapter introduces the action****; I've also included some ****poetry. There are no colloquial British words in this chapter that I need to define.**

Chapter Three

Burns Day

The little car sloshed its way along the wet road. Even with supernatural eyesight and hearing, I drove slowly; I wasn't used to the sharp curves of the road or the abruptly-appearing roundabouts. I took it upon myself to be a beacon of safety on the roads, but I found myself getting impatient. I treasured punctuality above all else, and we were going to be late.

In the passenger seat, Josh sat silently, watching the passing scenery. Of the three of us, he was the one that would most appreciate this new country, yet he was the one that had continually secluded himself from the human population. This was his first excursion through human-territory, and I could tell that he was glad to see the signs of life, and relieved that he was not struggling.

In the back seat, Molly flipped through a fashion magazine on her handheld, occasionally emitting gasps of "This color is perfect for you, Lisa!" For the most part, I ignored her comments; in the nearly seventy years of my life, I'd come to view fashion as fickle and pointless; it was constantly changing and going in circles and had successfully made the humans of the world unhappy with their body image. It meant nothing to me, and I would rather not have a part in it.

"We should have left earlier," Josh commented idly, as I paid the toll for the Fourth Road Bridge.

I ignored his comment as well; we both knew that I had been ready and waiting, and he was the one running out of the shower five minutes _after_ we'd planned to go. Molly had spent an additional quarter of an hour debating between three photographs to give to Mrs. Cullen; eventually, just to get her out of the house, we'd brought all three.

"Could you pull up the directions on your handheld?" I asked instead, watching the traffic pick up pace once across the bridge.

"Take the Glasgow/Livingston exit onto the M8. We will go through Livingston, and take the third turn-off at the Lizzie Bryce roundabout onto Bankton Road. Once we're through West Calder, take a left on the Lanark road; the driveway is long, so Carlisle will be waiting for us at the gate." He read from the screen.

My handheld buzzed an annoying Molly-selected ring tone just five minutes before we reached our exit. I groaned and answered.

"I know, we're running late." It didn't occur to me until after I'd spoken that I was being exceptionally rude.

Bella's frantic voice only served to increase my guilt. "How far away are you?"

"About twenty miles away," I responded. "Why?"

"Are you driving at the speed limit?" She demanded.

"Yes." Bella had always been a stickler for speed limits; in her human life, her father had been a police officer.

"Don't." She instructed, surprising both me and the eavesdropping inhabitants of the car. "Please get here as fast as you can. We need your help."

I could hear a scuffle in the background; a straining from a voice I didn't recognize, and a distinctively Emmett-like grunt.

"With what?" What could possibly be going on?

"Something." Bella replied, and I heard Carlisle's familiar mutter behind her, though I couldn't make out his words. She amended her statement, "Someone."

"We'll see you soon." I hung up, more than a little confused.

OOOOOOOOO

As promised, Carlisle was waiting at the gate to the long driveway. He locked the gate behind us and jumped into the back seat next to Molly.

"The road's muddy." He warned, though the splatters of mud and destroyed hems of his jeans had been clue enough. I had expected nothing less from a dirt road on a rainy day. The fields surrounding us still held the remnants of mushy snow, destroyed by the nonstop rain.

The old farmhouse was smaller than the Cullen's typical home; it turned out that each couple lived in one of the farm's three cottages, within a mile's radius. Carlisle and Esme had taken the main house, while Edward and Bella made their home in the shepherd's cottage, and Alice and Jasper inhabited the house adjoined to the unused barn. Rosalie and Emmett had chosen to live as a newlywed couple in Skelmorlie, a small coastal village on the opposite side of Scotland, two hours away.

There was a distracted tone to Carlisle's explanations; he had something disturbing on his mind. It was unusual to see the good doctor frazzled, and if he was unnerved, what hope had the rest of us?

I parked behind Alice's car, and we stepped out to hear clashes of hard bodies and fierce guttural growls and frenzied female voices.

"You're here!" Bella hurried out of the house to greet us as her adoptive father ran in, probably to assess the situation.

"What's going on?" Molly asked, finally turning from her magazine.

"We have someone in the house, and he's not happy."

"Duh," Josh raised his eyebrows at his old friend. Bella shook her head, offering no explanation as she beckoned us into the house.

Inside the beautiful farmhouse, Esme rushed around cleaning up the mess of broken pots and spilled soil and plants, moving a splintered door and obsessively vacuuming. Jasper and Emmett were nowhere to be seen, and as soon as we were inside, Edward pulled Josh into a side room. The quick view of the room from the open door showed me Carlisle, his back to us, speaking quietly to someone hunched in front of him, flanked by the attentive grasp of the strong Emmett and the calming Jasper. Alice sat on the narrow staircase, overcome by her visions – searching for danger, it seemed. Bella pulled Molly and I towards the living room.

Once the door was closed, she ushered us into the conservatory – a glass addition to the house that was popular in the twentieth century – and promptly closed that door as well. Motioning for us to sit on the soft pink couch, she began her explanation unprompted.

"Carlisle encountered another vampire on his way out of work, a week ago. He wasn't worried, but he knew that it would be safer to introduce himself and prove that he was civil and meant no harm. She was a dark-haired woman, with black eyes – in anger, rather than thirst – who was searching for her mate, Stewart. Her name was Yvonne, and she gave Carlisle her handheld number, in case he should find the missing man.

"There have been a few more killings than normal in the city; we didn't make the association, until, on his way to class at the University, Jasper smelt another vampire – not far from the dorms, hiding in the hills. He called Carlisle, but the vampire's trail disappeared; we assumed he had a car.

"Alice and Esme and I were shopping in Livingston when we got the call yesterday; Edward and Carlisle had met the vampire while hunting. They were bringing him back to the house, to talk with him – he was curious about our diet. When the rest of us showed up, he started to get defensive; I guess he thought that we'd hold him here until Yvonne came for him, which was our original intent. Now, we don't know what to do. It's pretty obvious that they didn't get separated so much as he left her."

Molly and I sat in silence for several minutes as Bella looked to us for a response; eventually, as I scrutinized the pattern on the upholstery, Molly asked the most pressing question.

"Why do you need us?"

"He's only been a vampire for four, maybe five, years. He's still young and even a little confused. We might be able to convince him to give our food source a try; there's power in numbers." Bella explained. "Plus, with that many killings, the Volturi will be getting suspicious."

I nodded in acquiescence. I wished that someone had thought to call us beforehand; I was not a big fan of plans interrupted; we were unprepared to stay for any length of time. Arrangements needed to be made, and things were left unfinished at home. I was unsure of exactly how we could help, but I knew the Cullens to be judicious in asking for assistance. We would stay.

OOOOOOOOO

By the end of that seemingly endless day, I wished I had my diary. The Shepherd's Cottage screamed of Bella's practicality and Edward's love of the elegant; in the small living room sat an old fashioned upright grand piano, an expensively upholstered sofa, and a dark wood desk that contrasted with the pale blue walls. For the first time today, the wallboard (discreetly disguised as a mirror above the fireplace) was quiet. I stared out one of the brand-new windows at the rain, falling in sheets over the murky horizon.

I wondered what this "Stewart" was thinking right now. I had been little more than a few months old when the Cullens found me. Overwhelmed and upset, I felt betrayed by the world, angry at what I had lost, and alone – I had nowhere to go. For the first and last time in my life, I had been seized by the utmost terror, and that fear had produced recklessness and anger in me.

Had I been violent when the Cullens apprehended me?

Certainly. I was terrified of these golden-eyed creatures that seemed so comfortable in their skins – the same new body that so scared me.

Had I succeeded at the diet they promoted?

So far, so good. I was, by nature, a cautious person; I had yet to slip up.

Maybe my own fall from grace, and the turnaround that my life had taken would be enough to encourage this man. I realized that Carlisle's nearly five-hundred years of wisdom was, once again, indispensible to our success. He knew that we each had remarkable stories to tell; he expected us to share.

After all, my studies in advertising had spouted how influential personal testimony was to a customer.

My musings were interrupted by the clearing of a throat, and the ceremonial opening of a worn text.

Here in the Shepherd's Cottage, the smallest on the farm, Molly sat on the floor by the warm fireplace, embroidering pillow covers as if she had regressed two hundred years of her life. Edward sat at his piano stool, facing into the room and tapping a quiet rhythm on his knee. Bella sat on the other end of the couch that I occupied, and Josh leaned forward in the lone armchair of the room, reading in a calm tenor from an aged anthology.

_"When chapman billies leave the street,_

_An droughty neebors neebors meet;_

_As market days are wearing late,_

_An' folk begin to tak the gate;_

_While we sit bousing at the nappy_

_An' getting fou and unco happy,_

_We think na on the lang Scots miles,_

_The mosses, waters, slaps, and styles,_

_That lie between us and our hame,_

_Whare sits our sulky, sullen dame,_

_Gathering her brows like gathering storm,_

_Nursing her wrath to keep it warm."_

The comfortable tone of the "auld" poem - the feeling of home and routine - managed to alleviate the almost-tangible tension that enveloped the moors surrounding the Cullen estate. I laughed softly with the rest of the group as Tam became "_a blethering blustering, drunken blellum;"_ and took a sharp intake of breath at "_That dreary hour Tam mounts his beast in; and sic a night he taks the roud in, as ne'er poor sinner was abroad in;"_ and snickered when he came upon the "_warlocks and witches in a dance_;" and gasped _"when out the hellish legion sallied;"_ and "aww"-ed when mare Maggie sacrificed "_her ain grey tail_" to the witch's grasp; and chuckled openly at the moral of the story:

_"Now, wha this tale o' truth shall read,_

_Ilk man and mother's son, take heed:_

_Whene'er to drink you are inclin'd,_

_Or cutty sarks run in your mind,_

_Think! ye may buy the joys o'er dear:_

_Remember Tam o' Shanter's meare."_

We sat in a comfortable quiet for a few minutes, before Edward began playing a bouncy melody on the ivory keyboard. Josh set the book down, and turned to Molly.

"Remember, little sister; don't drink and ride."

For the first time that day, we laughed whole-heartedly.

**Quotes in italics are from Robert Burns "Tam o' Shanter."**

**For those confused, Tam o' Shan****ter is a tale of drunken man who, riding his horse home ****amidst a storm**** encounters a witches****'**** dance. He watches captivated, until he is spotted and then chased – as h****e jumps a stream to safety, a witch in hot pursuit pulls on his mare's tail, yanking it off. ****I highly recommend following the link in my profile to read the whole thing – with a nice ****'****modern English****'**** translation.**

**On a side note; I lived in Ayr for a few years, and for a few months lived in Alloway, with a five minute walk to Burns birthplace and deathplace.**** Sadly, that was more than fourteen years ago, where Burns Cottage was only cool because the thatched roof b****urned through**** that summer.**

**Reviews are appreciated.**


	4. Uncomfortable

**Author's Note: Another chapter, my pretties!**

Chapter Four

Uncomfortable

"You need something to wear." Bella stated the next morning, looking at the three of us with a critical eye. "I'll call Alice."

"Ridiculous," I protested, pulling my car card from my handheld. "I'll go and pick some up; collect some other necessities, since we're going to be staying here for a while."

"You can't be gone for six hours," Edward pointed out from the next room, where he and Josh sat, enjoying a sports game. "Carlisle needs you here."

"Exactly – and at the speed you drive? I could run there faster," Molly agreed, annoyed over her lack of clothes and the proposed wait.

I called her bluff. "Go ahead."

"I can't run in this!" She indicated her couture attire. "These slacks are Ballard and Beard. You drive like a human. Just go a little bit faster. Or a lot faster, actually."

"I'm not going to break laws to satisfy your need for clean clothes." I sighed, again making my way towards the door.

"What if I gave you something else to wear?" Bella suggested, trying for a compromise. "I'm sure we have some hunting clothes we don't mind getting ruined."

"Sure, hunting clothes," Molly growled in my direction, "why didn't I think of that?"

Bella pulled Molly in the direction of her wardrobe; I could hear her sifting through drawers. After a moment, Molly moved back towards the front door, wearing a pair of overly large cotton pants, devoid of color as if bleached, and a few inches too long. Her Decant blouse had been exchanged for a thick red hooded sweater that overwhelmed her petite body. Her glare in my direction ensured that I wouldn't forget about this for a long time.

Edward and Josh appeared at the door to the room, debating the score to the game, before turning their attention to the ridiculously-dressed Molly.

"Are those pajama pants?"

OOOOOOOOO

I felt awkward. I was the sole person so completely out of place in this group. Josh talked with Edward and Bella, Bella sitting in Edward's lap. Alice was informing Carlisle of her latest vision, and Esme and Jasper cleaned up the results of the most recent struggle with Stewart. Rosalie and Emmett were discussing some plumbing problem in their new house, and Molly hadn't returned yet.

I was different from the rest of this group; I knew that. My penchant for academia, as a result of my gift for the sciences, made me a far less social creature. In past years, when visiting with the Cullens, I would have spent time with Rosalie in the garage; both of us silently working in ways that we could understand. In that respect, we might have been very close friends, had not her beauty and her pride overshadowed all of her relationships, with the exception of her love for Emmett. Sometimes Jasper and I would talk, but he was more adept at philosophy and history, so he spent much more time with my brother and sister.

While it was nice to see other vampires for a while, I was much more comfortable in the safe bubble of my own home. Molly and I did not always get along, but we lived in a happy disagreement. Josh and I were not frequently at odds, but we had little in common. We were all as much siblings as if we had been born to the same parents, in the same century.

I felt like everyone was noticing my unattached status, though I was being completely ignored by the rest of the room. Embarrassed, I paid attention to the pattern of the wood floor.

Jasper must have noticed my discomfort, because he began the tale of the most recent scuffle with Stewart – which Emmett wholeheartedly embraced.

"So, you know how all Edward and Carlisle had to do to get the guy to come back with them was talk with him and tell him about our hunting habits? We're pretty sure he thought he'd be safe here from that Yvonne woman.

"Of course, when everyone else gets home, he doesn't think too much of it – until I show up." Emmett belly laughed. "And here I am, thinking, 'What? Me… Intimidating?'"

We all chuckled weakly, not quite as enthusiastic about the story.

"So we got him back into the spare room yesterday, and he's beginning to figure out who to watch out for. He tried to make a break for it this morning – just blipped off the radar – but when we came to check, there he was, sitting in the room."

Carlisle took a moment to add his own thoughts to the story.

"We think he may be able to run exceptionally quickly. There's no way an average vampire could be gone, and then suddenly back."

Emmett picked up from where he left off, "Well, Carlisle starts asking nicely about what had happened – and this Stewart starts going insane, saying that he was being falsely accused and being unfairly tortured. The guy hits Carlisle – Carlisle!

"So, I step forward and he tries to make a run for it around us – straight into Rosalie and Esme, knocking over the side table from Greece in the process. I feel a little bit sorry for him; no one messes with Esmes house."

Josh had been deep in thought until this point, when he asked, "And you don't know where he disappeared to? I mean, how far would he have to go to be undetectable?"

"That is our concern," Carlisle explained.

"Do we have a plan?" Bella asked, no doubt full of ideas.

Jasper spoke up, ever the strategist. "We need to keep someone in the room with him at all times. There's not always going to be ten or eleven of us in the house at once. He knows that Edward can hear our thoughts; even if he manages to block his, there's no way he can make an escape attempt without alerting someone."

"And I'd see it anyway," Alice added, standing next to her husband.

"So," Carlisle pulled up a blank grid on the wallboard, "We'll take three hour shifts. Who wants to go first?"

Despite Emmett's enthusiasm and the fact that the plan was practically foolproof, no one moved. I could understand their reasoning – this man was from "the wild" – he was probably an infinitely better fighter; despite our advantages, it had been no easy feat to subdue him thus far.

Once again, I felt like the odd one out. Everyone was thinking of spouses or friends or adopted children or parents. I felt the acute pain of seeing my siblings in anguish, but that pain was nothing in comparison to losing someone beloved.

"I'll take the first shift." I volunteered, if nothing else but to break the tension. Edward sent me a quick, thankful glance; he had seen my train of thought.

Others volunteered and the rotation filled up, and I was once again sitting in my own little world. Lost in self-pity, I didn't notice Carlisle's approach.

"Lisa," he began, and I looked up to see his kind face, "while you're in there, if you could talk with him – see what information you can gather about him, and try to earn his trust."

I nodded; that was an efficient use of time.

Carlisle continued. "I know you're not really comfortable with huge groups and talking, so thanks."

"It's no big deal," I shrugged, standing to shake the doctor's hand before approaching the door to three hours of agonizing small talk.

**Revi****ews are appreciated. **


	5. Stewart

Chapter Five

Stewart

The windowless room had brown walls and creaky floorboards. Dim light flickered from the single light bulb hanging in the center of the room. A pile of boxes were stacked in a corner, next to an old desk and a plastic patio chair. I assumed that Esme hadn't yet had time to redecorate this room, or that she was indecisive as to its purpose – or that Alice had anticipated its usefulness. The room looked like a torture chamber from a bad, early-twenty-first-century horror film.

He reclined on a lumpy old mattress, his back against the dirty wall, his legs sprawled across the worn material, absentmindedly tossing a tennis ball. His eyes did not follow its movement, instead fixating upon a stain on the far wall – as if he could erase the grime with the intensity of his gaze.

I took a seat in the plastic chair, being wary of the broken armrest, and watched this curious creature. He had scraggly, unkempt dirty blonde hair that curled upwards behind his ears, and stubble dotted his face, as if he'd been well overdue for a good trim and shave before his death. He wore a holey pair of fading and patched jeans, and a thick plaid shirt over an old grey t-shirt. I noted that the Cullens had confiscated the red backpack I'd seen earlier; he'd probably kept a change of clothes and a comb with him. I felt that the Cullens owed him, at least, a shower and an opportunity to wash his travel-worn clothes.

"Hi," I began, suddenly unsure of what to say – and almost intimidated by this rugged man.

He did not respond, though I was sure he had heard. _Rude_, I noted for later. I should have expected no better. But, maybe he was just as uncomfortable as I – I was going to be stuck here for a while, I might as well try to - if not break the ice - chip away at it.

"They tell me your name is 'Stewart.'" I tried again.

His glare, red hot yet piercingly icy, did not waver from the hideous stain on the wall.

"It's unlike Esme," I began once more, still unsettled by his obvious indifference. "She really cannot stand mess of any kind. She really values an impeccably kept home."

I felt like a ripped boy band poster that gets covered up by photos of friends and boyfriends and posters of rock bands. Insignificant, forgotten, and worthless. I stopped my worthless chatter, choosing instead to stare at a hole in the mattress – looking in his general direction, should he decide to speak. I felt embarrassed and silly, and I was stuck here for another three hours.

After fifteen minutes of pretending not to look at him, the silence overwhelmed me once more. Though I didn't need to be surrounded by music and chatter, I found this silence suffocating – if I thought sitting in the Cullens' living room and not having anyone to talk to was uncomfortable, how much more was sitting here, being ignored outright?

"I'm going to tell you my story," I blurted out, much faster than I had intended. It was a split second decision; I had no idea where to begin.

Still _sans_ reaction, I organized my thoughts, took a deep, calming breath and began.

"I was born in 2039 – the year that the Great Gas War began. My brother – his name is Joshua, you've already met him – told me that it had been coming on for a long time, and no matter what efforts people took to make the population _aware_ of the danger, few people really made any effort to fix the problem. By the time I was five, alternatives to crude oil and coal were not only in high demand, but high supply.

"I spent seventeen years in this new society. I was fascinated by the boom in inventions and technology and innovation. I was a science nerd; I never had a boyfriend, all of my friends were in academic clubs with me. I went to Princeton on scholarship; I don't remember much now, but I know that my roommate irritated me to no end – no appreciation for the advances in modern technology!"

I paused here, to see if I'd elicited _any_ reaction from the unkempt man.

"Fresh out of college, I got a sought-after job in a lab in the middle of Montana – plenty of space for testing out there. I don't know if you've ever made it out to America, but it's a pretty big place. I'd grown up in a small town on the east coast, and to me Montana was the definition of huge.

"I was twenty-two years old, making more money than my parents ever had in my dream job." I remembered, my voice dropping.

"I was driving home one night. I don't remember it – I know that I got into my car, and that it was raining that night. I don't remember the crash – I later found out that I'd killed a family of three, a happy couple and their newborn. I hadn't been paying attention."

I felt my brow crease as I reached the next part of my story – the part that confused me the most.

"I remember the pain. No one ever forgets that. I woke up miles from where my body had disappeared from the accident site. I was thirsty – I did the first thing I could think of, and killed a man hiking.

"I don't know why I was changed, and then left alone. I was angry; after I realized what I'd done, what I'd become, I knew that I couldn't return to my perfect life. I didn't want to kill, but I couldn't stop myself.

"Coming across the Cullens hunting was possibly the most important moment of my life. The way their leader came up to me – so civil, though flanked by some big men – and introduced himself, and his family…"

I looked into this man's face. He was no longer bouncing the tennis ball, though he still stared at the wall. Perhaps he was listening. I continued.

"I wanted that life. They endeavored to teach me – and I learned quickly. I'm not partial to mess, and that's what my life had quickly become. The Cullens had a routine and structure – they used the eternity they had to learn as much as they wanted to, to enjoy the arts, to be in love…

"I haven't fallen off the bandwagon yet. The memory of that first day, of the emotion that wracked my indestructible body, is too fresh – you know that our kind forget nothing."

I looked up again. He was frozen – but I was certain that he was listening.

"I don't know Molly's story – she's out picking up some clothes for us right now. She learned from a similar coven in Denali. When I joined the Cullens, I'm sure they were all trying to set me and Josh up; it didn't work. When we met Molly ten years later, we didn't even need to think about it – we formed our own coven and our own story. I would go to college and study whatever I chose, Molly would repeat high school with some sort of never-ending enjoyment, and Josh would fritter back and forth. We're really happy this way – none of us have mates, so I suppose we don't feel awkward."

His body was definitely angled towards me now. I finished, somewhat encouraged.

"I have been a vampire for forty-six years. Since those first few months, I've been an animal-blood-ingesting vampire. I'm a content vampire."

I finished, staring straight into his intense red eyes.

Was it curiosity? Or maybe mild amusement?

Regardless, it was the first emotion I'd seen on him. It spread no further than his deep scarlet eyes, but it changed his entire demeanor.

I no longer saw him as the dirty, unkempt man before me.

He was beautiful.

**Reviews are appreciated.**


	6. Stewart's Tale

**Author's Note: Anstruther is a real town – where my grandfather grew up. Also, I wanted to write in dialect for Stewart, but I assumed that with the one-hundred year time lapse that fewer and fewer people speak it in casual conversation anymore – so, for your benefit, no dialect.**

Chapter Six

Stewart's Tale

"Truly inspired," Emmett spoke of the move to Scotland as we all slid into his large car, well-satisfied with our hunt. He enjoyed the change in wildlife, as well as the abundance of it. I noticed Josh twitch – just for a second, before regaining his composure. He blamed himself for the move – for the uprooting of all of our lives.

In reality, I was more than sick of the same small American towns. This life was different and interesting. The Cullens were due for a move soon anyway – they'd uprooted with us, just because they could – and because they loved Scotland.

We got back to the estate, and I hurried to the Shepherd's Cottage, opening the door with the spare key Bella had given me, and hurrying towards the small bathroom for a shower. The landscape was rather consistently wet and muggy; if I managed not to soil my clothes with blood, they were still destroyed by the mud.

After showering and changing into more comfortable clothes, I heard Molly's quick and light approach just before she swung through the front door and stomped towards our shared room.

"How on earth did you manage it?" Molly had received the last available rotation for watching Stewart, and had gotten stuck with him while the rest of us had hunted. She was throwing on a pair of worn jeans and a plain red long-sleeve shirt.

"And where are my shoes?" I had organized the room the night before, and Molly's shoes no longer sat in the middle of the floor.

"Under the bed." I sighed, plopping down on the couch to sift through the wallboard for any good medical shows.

"Carlisle's watching him right now." Molly spoke as she laced up the running shoes. "He said you're to go over there."

"Why?" I turned to face my sister, utterly confused, "It's Carlisle's turn."

"But Stewart," she placed a hinting emphasis on his name, "is asking for your company. Just yours."

"Wha- ." I tried to speak but was interrupted by a call coming through on the wallboard – a message from Dr. Cullen with the exact same information Molly had just given me.

Since I was wearing clean clothes (and Molly had, kindly, chosen to bring my more "dressy" clothes), I took my car the short muddy drive to the farmhouse.

Before I could knock, Esme shuttled me inside, saying "It's so good of you to do this for us. Really, we're glad that you get along with him. Not like we weren't expecting you to get along with anyone, but we weren't expecting _him_ to get along with anyone…"

I slipped inside the dark room and out of the well-meaning woman's grasp, only to be greeted similarly by Dr. Cullen, though in a hushed voice.

"Lisa! I don't know how you did it, but I'm so glad you did."

_Did what? _I wanted to scream. Nodding to Carlisle as he left the room, I took a seat in the plastic chair and turned to Stewart.

Today, he sat forward on the mattress, in a position of contemplation. His eyes were closed, as if he was praying, but his foot tapped out an easy rhythm. After a moment, he turned to look at me, his eyes once again startling me with their intensity.

I could not read his face like Edward could, or decipher his emotions like Jasper would, but I recognized the emotion in his eyes – passion. For what, I was unsure, but he felt passionately about something.

And, as he opened his mouth, I realized that he was going to tell me.

"I want to tell you _my_ story." His eyes were as if they were far away – watching a play-by-play of his past. His voice was rougher than the average vampires, marked not only by the Scottish accent, but by something else – it gave intensity to his simple words. I remembered the unusual emotion that had washed over me, when the first sign of life in his eyes stunned me. I had admitted to myself that, yes, the man was beautiful, but it was just a superficial thought – worth nothing. But, when he first spoke, I was reminded of that same pang. Was it longing? I dismissed the thought, glad that Edward wasn't here to tease me. This man meant nothing to me.

He continued. "I was born in Anstruther in Fife twenty-five years ago, and I lived with my family above my father's pub by the harbor. I had three older sisters – my father was very excited for a boy to keep the family business running. I wasn't too excited about the idea; I loved sports, and running and I constantly needed to be moving. I worked for my father all of my life, and he wanted me to go to school to study business, so that I could take over. In my spare time, I really preferred teaching my younger brother, Joe, how to play sports. I wanted to make a profession out of it.

"I was working as the bar tender four years ago, saving money to go to school to become a gym teacher, when Yvonne came into the pub. I flirted with her – she was the most beautiful woman I'd ever seen, who wouldn't? She interpreted my advances differently – I was kidnapped that night and killed."

His eyes hadn't moved once as he set up his story. I didn't need to blink, and I couldn't look away. His features did not change as he spoke, but his expressive eyes did, and he spoke with his hands.

"I wasn't very happy with her, but she told me that I was her mate now, and that this was the way things had to be." He continued, his eyes once again drifting to a far-away place. We ran through Scotland, and we traveled to Norway and Denmark and Russia and Eastern Europe. A few months ago, we returned to the British Isles, and while she was distracted, I made a run for it."

He paused, and then started again. "I guess I should tell you why I ran away. No one likes being told what to do. I was sick of Yvonne and her rules – like I was a little kid again. When I was little, I used to hide from my sisters and their teasing – I got really good at it. I couldn't hide from Yvonne – she could track me down."

He surveyed my face and laughed – a deep, rumbling laugh. "Sorry, I guess I've gotten off topic again. I'm sure you'll find that my thoughts are a little more scattered than yours are.

"I thought Yvonne was pretty, but her character is horrible. I thought, 'there must be some other way to live' – I mean, I got to go to all of these amazing places in Europe, just to eat people instead of take in the history or tours and sights. I managed to get away from her – I'm not sure how – ."

Emmett burst through the door, and looked at us.

"But he's here!" He called back to Esme, who rushed in behind him.

"But you weren't…" She tried to think over what had happened.

"He's been here, with me, the whole time." I said. I noticed that Stewart had lost his animation at the interruption.

"Oh-kay," Emmett raised one eyebrow and shut the door.

"I'm sorry about that," I apologized, but Stewart smiled.

"That proves it!" He said, and then explained, "I told you that when I was a child, I liked to hide. I thought that might have carried over – Yvonne told me that sometimes happened to vampires – like your Edward or Alice. I'm sitting right here, but if I get anxious, everyone seems to lose their sixth vampire sense about me."

I mulled over it – his suggestion was entirely possible. He continued his story.

"So, I got away from her – and I watched the doctor in Edinburgh. How he could be around people – it intrigued me. Sometimes he would meet with another vampire from the University. I was nervous – I guess that's how they didn't notice me.

"I didn't know that Yvonne had gotten to him first, in her search for me. The man from the University started following me – I must've been scared, because he gave up all of a sudden.

"I had hoped that I could run into these vampires with the odd-colored eyes that could be around humans. I wanted to understand what they did. I was glad when I met Carlisle and Edward, and thankful that they invited me into their home – I didn't think Yvonne would risk being around a larger coven. I had no idea exactly how large this coven was – I thought they were going to turn me in."

"They're not," I interjected, suddenly wanting to assure this man of his safety.

"I know that now," he said, nodding his head so that a piece of blonde hair fell into his eyes. He fell silent.

I watched him for a few minutes – his tapping foot, but the stillness of his eyes. I felt sadness for this man, who had become a real person in my eyes as he told his story.

"Why did you tell me your story?" I asked quietly, wondering if he would answer.

"Because you told me yours." He replied. I felt a twinge of disappointment – as if I had expected him to answer differently.

I studied his face – the sharp angles, the square jaw, and the thick eyebrows over those captivating eyes. _What color had his eyes been as a human, to make them so endearing now?_

It seemed that we would say no more to each other. I moved to get up, but Stewart's "Wait!" stopped me.

His voice was husky and tempting – as many vampires used to their advantage.

"Could you keep what we discussed confidential?" He requested.

It was a reasonable request. The Cullens hadn't been the most polite of hosts thus far. I had earned Stewart's trust, and I wasn't going to lose that.

"Of course," I nodded, before stepping out of the small room, letting Jasper enter.

**Reviews are appreciated.**


	7. Edinburgh

**Author's Note: To start with – Edinburgh is my favorite city in the world. Seriously, I was planning to study there (at the frequently-mentioned university), until I got sick. On that note, instead of a vocab lesson, a pronunciation lesson: Americans pronounce "Edinburgh" the way they pronounce "Pittsburgh" – that's wrong. To the Scottish people, "Edinburgh" is "Ed – in – bruh;" don't pronounce it the way it's spelled. (On that note, while we're taking care of my pet peeves, if you're British and reading this, "Los Angeles" is pronounced "Loss Anj- el – es" not "Lohs Anj – el – ees.") The landmarks and history mentioned all exist/are true. **

Chapter Seven

Edinburgh

It wasn't wet yet today, but it was certainly overcast. Carlisle had assured us that if the sun should emerge, we'd be able to make a quick escape to shelter – there certainly was a lot of it in this city.

This was my first trip to the ancient landmark, and I wasn't disappointed. The beautiful contrast between the medieval buildings and the towering gothic cathedral and the fancier Renaissance-style buildings was startling. Our group of nine walked past a modern electronics store housed in a building older than Carlisle himself, next to a building representing yet another time period. As we strode along Princes Street, Carlisle put on his best "tour guide voice" and began divulging its secrets.

"First," he said, "Waverly Station – built in the 1840s. Railways are still big here in the U.K., though Americans quickly eschewed the effort of building them. From here, you can see the Scott Monument, dedicated to Sir Walter Scott. Its sooty color is caused by the shale it is built with, which still exudes oil – and after all, Edinburgh's nickname is 'Auld Reekie' for a reason. The Nor Loch that once divided the city, where all the waste accumulated, was also a source of drinking water; the conditions that the poor lived in where nothing but stinky."

We continued along the street, snickering at the face the doctor had made while using the word 'stinky.' As Carlisle talked about "Jenners," the department store, I found my mind wandering to Stewart's current doings. A part of me wanted to believe that he'd love to be able to wander a city like this freely – but it would be years before he would have the strength. I looked up at the castle, shadowing the brilliant park like an omen of the ominous. In reality, we'd come here for a break from the man - myself especially; spent plenty of time with him, mostly just sitting in an odd silence. I sighed, and tuned back in as Carlisle talked about the floral clock; I had never seen one before. Its bright colors, in the midst of such a notoriously murky city, were both a relief and a little disconcerting.

"From the rumored 'baobhan sith,' to Clan wars and Celtic rituals and cannibalism; from the maltreatment of plague victims, to the fact that Edinburgh had a witch-hunting period," Carlisle stated as we walked, "it's shady past was what attracted me to Scotland to study."

This caught my attention – I hadn't realized that Carlisle had spent time studying here. Edward laughed at my expression, obviously reading my thoughts.

"We'll head up to the Castle," Carlisle decided, leading us through the streets to the Royal Mile, "and I'll tell you _that_ story."

"Names like Arthur Conan Doyle, Walter Scott, and Robert Louis Stevenson are all familiar to you – they were also students at the university in the second half of the nineteenth century. In fact, Conan Doyle based his most famous character on a local doctor, Joseph Bell. It was in _his_ time that I attended the University, studying medicine.

"In the late 1800s, the city was famous for grave-digging and body-snatching, the corpses then sold to the University of Edinburgh's Anatomy department. Now, I am not one to condone disturbing the dead, but I'll admit that at the time, this wasn't a bad place to take a refresher course in medicine.

"It was the Anatomy departments experimenting with 'medical electricity' to try to resuscitate the dead that became the basis for Shelley's _Frankenstein._ The same man that mentioned this practice to Shelley wrote _The Vampyr_, a very obvious influence on Bram Stoker's _Dracula._"

Carlisle shook his head, as if remembering, and muttered, "Those were the days." Edward laughed at the image in his head and nudged Josh, who also chuckled at the doctor's odd pose.

He picked up again. "We just passed St. Giles Cathedral, now nearly one thousand years old. Since the medieval period, different chapels and alters have been added – it has a very irregular layout for a cathedral. Notice the hollow-crown tower."

We reached the castle, and walked through the seating used for the "Military Tatoo" during the annual summer festivals. Esme assured me that we had to come and see it as a group one evening this year. Again, I found myself almost adverse to the idea, purely because Stewart would not be able to enjoy it as well.

The ancient castle, from its military history to the Kings and Queens born within its walls to the gorgeous views over the city, pleased everyone. Josh told me that J.K. Rowling had used it as her image for Hogwarts Castle in her Harry Potter novels. Carlisle took the time to point out Mons Meg, the huge medieval cannon sitting outside St. Margaret's Chapel – the Norman style chapel built at the beginning of the 12th century, and the oldest building in Edinburgh. Its tiny but quiet atmosphere reminded me again of Stewart's small room. He'd said that he was always moving around as a child – did he feel cooped up now?

I shook the thoughts from my head, annoyed that I'd allowed him too much significance in my mind. He was like an addict in rehab – this was no time to be thinking about him in anything more than a professional light; a colleague. We moved on, viewing the Scottish crown jewels and listening for the firing of the one o'clock gun.

After a stop at the gift shop, courtesy of Alice, who insisted that though Emmett and Jasper were left at home, they shouldn't feel left out, our little group wandered back through the city.

While Alice and Rosalie insisted on sampling the local shopping, and Bella, Edward and Josh hurried in the direction of the Writer's Museum, and Molly made her way to the National Gallery, I excused myself from Mr. and Mrs. Cullen, finding my way to Greyfriar's Cemetery.

I listened idly to a tour guides descriptions of the Cemetery's haunting, and looked at the mess of headstones and mausoleums. I felt oddly comfortable wandering a supposedly-haunted place; a vampire fears very few things in life – except an eternity alone. Right now, I was the undead creature haunting this particular spot. Apparently, the café where J.K. Rowling had written her famous series overlooked this graveyard. It was long gone by now, and I felt a pang of regret for the lost history.

This city was not completely exempt from technology – while Carlisle's stories of the body-snatchings intrigued me, I recalled that the University housed an Artificial Intelligence building, as well as numerous other science courses.

After wandering for a while, passing the Royal Infirmary where Carlisle worked, and finding myself wandering in aimless circles, I was glad to hear the annoying ring of my handheld.

"Lisa." It was Jasper's controlled voice. I heard Emmett grunting with effort in the background. "We need you back here."

"Um," I didn't know how to respond – we'd come in by train. It would take more than an hour to get back to the station in West Calder.

"Run." He said, anticipating my reservations. "It's not raining right now."

"Your wife would kill me," I responded. Alice had been just a little bit overbearing when it came to my fashion choices, since she'd given up on Bella decades ago.

"If _we're_ already dead, she'd have other things to worry about," his calm tone belied the worry underneath.

"Stewart?" I asked, hearing my voice rise in pitch. Why hadn't I figured it out earlier? It seems the Cullens now relied on me to control the unexpected mood swings in their captive.

Jasper did not confirm it, simply instructing, "please hurry."

**Reviews are appreciated.**


	8. Memories

**Author's Note: I'm sorry about the wait! While everyone was heading back to school (at least in this house), I was suffering a few bad days (with CFS) where I rarely made it out of bed and spent a great deal of time watching House and Grey's Anatomy (and falling more in love each episode with whoever pioneered the idea of season dvds). It hasn't helped that it hit 107 degrees down here, which is a stifling heat this late in the year (and my dog can't seem to realize that every time he wants out into the garden, he'll want back in two minutes later... so much for being intelligent creatures). Weather-bashing aside and pathetic excuses aside, we have no new vocab words this chapter. I also want to take a moment to thank my beta, leiahlaloa, for catching everything in this story. It only makes sense because of her.**

Chapter Eight

Memories

"One moment he was there, and the next he just disappears!" Jasper complained, leaning in the open doorway to Stewart's makeshift cell as if the man wasn't there. I bit my tongue to keep from commenting on that.

"Three times," Emmett added, "and quite honestly, we're at a loose end."

"And you want me to sit with him," I deduced. I had called Carlisle, and run through the less-than-dry woods and fields back to the farmhouse. Despite a close call where I'd almost taken a wrong turn skirting the outside of Livingston, I'd made it back fairly quickly – but not quick enough for the anxious brothers, who had all but chained Stewart to the wall (regardless of how fruitless the effort would be).

"So you'll stay?" Emmett pleaded. I let out an exaggerated sigh, as if irritated that my day had been disrupted. I was relieved to get back to Stewart and his mysterious mood swings, as much as I refused to admit it.

"You're the only one he'll be calm for." Jasper added, in physical pain over the prisoner's mood. It amazed me that Jasper hadn't figured him out yet.

"I'll keep him out of your hair," I replied, keeping up the act. Emmett thanked me profusely, and Jasper let go of the manufactured tension he'd used to get me to agree.

Sitting in the plastic chair, I found myself watching the still-dirty man sprawled out across the mattress, like he hadn't a care in the world. I wanted so badly to see his expression and know that he was worried or in pain or just plain confused, but when I saw his pose and heard his silence, all I knew was that he was angry.

"What happened today?" He'd been getting along well with the Cullens for the past few days. They would have certainly noticed and worked to prevent any change.

Stewart turned to glare at me, and then returned his gaze to blankness and anger.

"What have I done?" I amended my question. If I was going to be stuck with him while he was in a bad mood, I wanted to be assured of his honesty.

After a few minutes of tangible icyness, Stewart suddenly gave up. He sat up, swinging his legs onto the floor, rested his elbows on his knees and folded his hands in front of his nose. He seemed to shake away some thoughts, before speaking.

"My mother walked out on us when I was fifteen. She was so different from my dad – she would listen to me, support me in my choices, whether or not she agreed with them. I never got to tell her thank you or good-bye; she just left."

Even I could hear the pain in his voice. He had come to trust me, and I had disappeared. It struck a chord within me – did he "like" me? Was I more to him than just the girl that sat in his room as a guard? I pushed the thoughts away – it was that type of speculation and emotion that got girls in trouble. I was hit by sudden curiosity, and I desperately wanted to change the topic.

"When you were human…" I trailed off, unsure how to pose the question.

"Yes?" He still had not moved from the ending of his tale.

I swallowed my pride and started again. "What color were your eyes, when you were human?"

Stewart sat back, a little stunned by my question. His eyes searched my face for a motive – even I did not know what my motive was. When he finally answered, he spoke quietly.

"I don't remember."

I accepted that answer – human things were so transient. Our kind would keep the most important of our memories, but the trivial everyday things – those we would quickly lose.

"What do you remember?" He asked me, his turn to take _me_ by surprise. "From your human life, I mean."

I thought for a moment about his question. What did I remember?

"My father called me 'Sugar-bug,' and I could never figure out why. I asked him to stop calling me it when I turned thirteen – I didn't realize how much I offended him with that."

It was such a random snippet of a memory – I think the guilt I had for the incident surprised me. It was one of my first real insights into human character and how people thought and worked.

"My brother called me 'werd' when he was a toddler; he couldn't get his mind around the sounds." Stewart added, and I felt a little more comfortable with the conversation.

"My first car was a dark, sparkly green." I threw out there.

"I didn't have a car," Stewart said, and I felt my face fall – had I offended him or made him feel inferior? He assuaged my worries by adding, "My dad's was old and yellow and I hated it, so I walked everywhere."

I searched my mind for another one. "I had a cat, named Pickles."

"I was allergic to cats," Stewart countered. "You're jogging my memory here."

"Good," I smiled. This was fun, but frustrating. I was running low on details.

"I never had a girlfriend." Stewart spoke, and his tone had changed a little – he wasn't wistful, but almost as if he was assuring me. I smirked at his deviation from the topic – he had a way of jumping from A to D, and then having to backtrack to explain himself. I'd seen it a few times, when he'd start talking as if continuing a conversation, and I had to scramble to catch up.

_Lisa! _My mind yelled, _stop trying to interpret his actions like a teenager with a schoolgirl crush! _

"I don't have a lot of memories." I finally said. "It's been over forty years. You're young, and it sounds like you kept a hold of those things."

"I couldn't let myself believe that things had to be the way Yvonne said they were. I spent a lot of time thinking about my human life." Stewart paused here. "It made me pretty angry at times, what she did to me… I hate her."

Abruptly, Stewart stood up and stretched, seeming to forget his previous change in tone. "What I would do for a run."

"You're going to have to hunt soon." I said, not really sure of the Cullens' plan. "I'll talk to Carlisle about getting you outside."

Stewart's mood changed once again. "Why do you have to defer to him? Does this Carlisle have some kind of control over you? Why can't you make that decision, for yourself?"

Shocked into silence, I found myself taking deep, calming breaths. I'd never met a person so bipolar – did he have a disorder as a human that had magnified as a vampire. I mentally brushed away my analysis and focused on the more pressing matter. I was not irrational, and I was not going to let myself reply irrationally.

"This is about you, not me." I spoke slowly. "You aren't used to hunting the way we do."

Stewart just scoffed and folded his arms over his chest, glaring at me. I rose, meeting his glare, until I heard the gentle voice of Esme at the door. Glad for the relief, I left this confusing man behind, but not before noticing a sort of sadness wash over his features at my leaving.

Stewart's very personality was in such stark contrast to my own, I was amazed that we even got along. I needed organization and neatness and lists. I kept myself calm and in control of my words and actions, and I strived to be dependable for my coven. Stewart was unpredictable, prone to mood swings. He himself admitted a need to constantly move. I would struggle to function against such a scattered mind; a mind that could talk in passing about a woman he'd known for five years, discussing a justifiable emotion, and then without any given reason would declare his hatred for her.

I convinced myself that we complemented each other well, were we ever to become friends; I had such a craving for friends – to not be the odd one out among my family and friends. But we would never be anything more than friends. His outburst proved it – I considered everyone capable of rational decisions, and his anger proved that he had little respect for me or my own decision-making abilities. Right now, I was a source of entertainment to Stewart – a boredom buster.

Maybe, if he could choose to become a 'vegetarian' and if he chose to stay around – maybe we could become friends.

And maybe Molly would walk out in public wearing a bathrobe or Josh would denounce his faith. The rational part of my mind screamed for my, admittedly small, emotional center to hear reason.

It wasn't going to happen.

**Reviews are appreciated.** **(On a side note, I have yet to recieve a flame... so, if anyone feels like sending one of those my way, please do! Everyone's too nice.)**


	9. Distraught

**Author's Note: Once again, I apologize for the delay; my illness will always get the better of me when I least expect it. However, I particularly like this chapter (given that I had originally feared it would be monotonous, before the character went and did something ****rather spontaneous – see if you can figure out what happened that I didn't plan on!). No new vocabulary – just enjoy.**

Chapter Nine

Distraught

I leaned against the car and watched the "boys" scurry off into the woods – Stewart included. Today would mark the first day of his attempt to live as a "vegetarian." I hadn't spoken with him since yesterday, but apparently Carlisle had a rational conversation with him regarding the food-source issue, and he'd agreed to try our lifestyle.

His run was like that of a horse – a sort of swaying gallop, streamlined and quick; rhythmic. _Unlike him,_ I thought gloomily. I had spent the entire night sitting on the couch in Bella's guest room, staring at the wall and rehashing all that Stewart had said.

_"Why do you have to defer to him? Does this Carlisle have some kind of control over you? Why can't you make that decision, for yourself?"_

Until that moment, I had never before questioned authority. I prided myself on seeing things as they were – I could break things down into neat little lists and use mathematical proofs or balanced chemical equations to explain away the world around me. The vampire hierarchy _worked_ – I had heard terrifying stories of human civil wars and vampire insurrections, but they rarely succeeded – the powerful, the _right_ always won out.

_Josh would be happy with me_, I snorted aloud. I did have a moral center inside that analytical mind of mine. I would just attribute it to common sense – all the while wondering if he was more intelligent than I gave him credit for. The same way the humans feared the punishment of an all-powerful God, we vampires feared the punishment of a highly-influential Volturi. Like God, they had the wisdom and respect of ages on their side.

I didn't question authority, because I knew how it worked. Those who had power wielded said power; not everyone could have power, and in the complex organization of leadership in this world, it all muddled out well.

Carlisle had time on his side, as well as wisdom. He had an unnatural compassion, and an unorthodox approach to this lifestyle. His character did not demand respect, but earned it. I deferred to him because I recognized him as wiser than I. While I live on his estate, he will have control over my own coven as well.

_Still,_ a tiny part of me argued, _why don't you make your own decisions?_

I felt like a schizophrenic as another side of me retaliated in anger at the thought. I had given up more than enough for my coven! True, I had no natural talent as a leader, but I was careful to make the best decision and to pull through for my siblings. My own interest never played into a decision. I made decisions perfectly well.

_Do you?_

Frustrated, I stomped off into the woods to cool off, leaving a behind five other slightly flabbergasted vampires.

_Abruptly, Stewart stood up and stretched, seeming to forget his previous change in tone. "What I would do for a run."_

_"You're going to have to hunt soon." I said, not really sure of the Cullens' plan. "I'll talk to Carlisle about getting you outside."_

_Stewart's mood changed once again. "Why do you have to defer to him? Does this Carlisle have some kind of control over you? Why can't you make that decision, for yourself?"_

_Shocked into silence, I found myself taking deep, calming breaths. I'd never met a person so bipolar – did he have a disorder as a human __that had magnified as a vampire?__ I mentally brushed away my analysis and focused on the more pressing matter. I was not irrational, and I was not going to let myself reply irrationally._

_"This is about you, not me." I spoke slowly. "You aren't used to hunting the way we do."_

_Stewart just scoffed and folded his arms over his chest, glaring at me. I rose, meeting his glare, until I heard the gentle voice of Esme at the door. Glad for the relief, I left this confusing man behind, but not before noticing a sort of sadness wash over his features at my leaving._

In review, I was satisfied with my answer. How dare Stewart turn his own problems around on me? I strived for rationality. _Calm, cool, and collected._I was ridiculously careful to keep my cool. How was it that, all of a sudden, my perfectly calm demeanor had become a mash of disorganized emotions and thoughts.

I wished for my diary, which had been left behind in the flurry of events. Had it truly only been a week? And already, I had fallen in love.

_What? _

_No!_

_Lisa, get a grip!_

And as much as I wanted to silence those thoughts, I also knew how the subconscious worked. I had been so comfortable with thinking it. It had never occurred to me before – had just, _been_ there – hiding amidst my confusion. I was in love with this dangerous man.

_Why?_

I couldn't understand it. And almost instantaneously, another thought flew into the foreground.

_Stewart does not love me, but he does confide in me. He cannot know. Teenage girls hide silly little crushes all of the time – why not I? No, Stewart and I have little chance for friendship – much less love._

After all, Stewart could not respect those that I respected, could not live the somewhat-stationary lives we lived. Emmett and Jasper, ever the gamblers, had already placed their bets on how long Stewart was going to last. Based on their own experience, they didn't hold out much hope. Based on my own, I didn't either.

There was a shuffle of leaves behind me, and I whirled around to catch a guilty-looking blonde-haired vampire just before he jumped out, his "boo" caught in his throat.

"How…?" He wondered aloud, "you were so confused."

"My hearing's still intact." I crossed my arms and leveled my toughest of stares at the intruder, suddenly aware of how far into the forest I had trekked.

Jasper was silent for a while, sitting with his back against a tree. Feeling somewhat awkward, I plopped down against a tree a few feet away, and continued my glaring.

Jasper was unfazed. A sudden light came on behind his eyes, and he laughed. "_He's_ the one that's been confusing you."

There was no need to explain who that "_He_" was. Jasper knew, which meant that he'd tell Alice, and of course Edward would know, since neither of them had any motivation to block their thoughts – which always made Edward more persistently curious anyway – and Edward would tell Bella and Josh; if Josh knew, then Molly with her teenage wiles wouldn't take long to figure it out. All the while, Alice, well-meaning as she was, would tell Esme, who would coo over the fact before proudly announcing it to Carlisle. Jasper and Emmett would start a betting pool (and I would, once more, insist that they get a chart to keep track of their several betting pools, and Carlisle would counter-insist that they really shouldn't be gambling in the first place, before secretly placing his own bet). Rosalie wouldn't care, but she was only one out of ten.

I was screwed.

"That's a whole lot of despair you're in." Jasper looked uninterested, but I knew better.

"Wouldn't you be?"

"I'm married."

"Fair enough," I sighed. Was there any way to buy his silence? "Will you not say anything?"

"Hello!" Another figure moved into the light from the darkness under the trees, effectively scaring me this time.

"So, what this I hear?" Edward sat with his back against another tree.

"So now there's only three helping? He's new to this." I was desperate to distract them, long enough for them to forget.

_Stupid,_ I chided myself, _vampires don't forget._

_And Edward can – _

"- hear you." He finished for me. "Don't worry; Emmett's got it covered."

If he and Josh weren't such good friends, I'd have a lot of motivation to squash his pretty little face right now.

"As if."

"That's annoying," I groaned and slumped against my tree.

"Your thoughts are annoying," he countered, mocking my stance.

"Your emotions are annoying." Jasper added, obviously miffed at being left out of the one-ended conversation.

"How much?" Edward asked his brother, and I considered slipping away, before decided it was no use. Both boys were much faster runners than I was.

"Whoa," Edward responded to the wave of emotions Jasper threw at him. We sat in silence for a good five minutes before Edward turned to me.

"You know, that day that Stewart asked for you to sit with him?" I nodded dumbly, refusing to say anything possibly more incriminating. "Alice had a vision – she's pretty sure that as long as your around, it'll help him reform. So, ignore that despair and stick around, because there are days when we _really_ could use your help."

"What do you mean, I'll help him reform?" I sat up as I questioned, "You know he doesn't think very highly of me."

"Just that, in the moments when you haven't given up on him, Alice sees Stewart succeeding at this lifestyle." Edward explained. I wasn't satisfied, but he only smirked and stood from the ground. I turned to Jasper to see if he offered any extra details, and though he looked as if he knew more, I only received a polite nod and "goodbye" before they disappeared into the trees.

Standing and brushing myself off, I took a deep breath and boxed up all of those emotions. I could agonize over them later.

Much later.

**Reviews are appreciated – I've only gotten one per chapter recently, and I know there are more people reading this – tell me what you think! I started writing fanfiction because I wanted to become a better writer - and I'm not perfect. Are my chapters too short? Do you find my style confusing/too easy/just right/too hard? Did you spot any particularly annoying errors? (Believe me, you don't want to drive me to write horridly on purpose, do you?) Is this story boring? Why are you reading it - did you enjoy the first in the series (yes, series - I have plans to write the prequel), am I on your author alert?**


	10. Giving Up

**Author's Note: Again, it has been a long time, but I finally finished this chapter. I hate to sound like I'm begging, but I haven't recieved any reviews the past two chapters, and I'm wondering how many people are actually reading this. I think I know why this hasn't been as wildly successful as some of my others were though, so I'll amend that in the future.**

Chapter Ten:

Giving Up

"Hi," I said awkwardly, hurrying over to the plastic chair, as if it would provide a shield from my feelings.

"Hello," Stewart sounded cheerful, his accent broad. He sat leisurely on the mattress, as if all of the tension from our last meeting was insignificant. I immediately felt better, and smiled. I could forget about my brooding and feelings for now, content just to spend time with another and actually enjoy it for once.

"How are you today?" I asked, sitting up and extending a hand as if I was holding a microphone, interview-style.

"Not too bad," Stewart replied, speaking into the fake microphone. "And yourself?"

"Better than yesterday," I conceded. "How was your hunt?"

"Odd. It was like…" He stumbled for an accurate description.

"Like eating rubber?" I provided. I could no longer remember the taste that elicited the comparison, but I remembered how often I'd said it when I first met the Cullens.

"Like being fed fish and chips when you want lamb chops." He said, trying to better analyze the feeling.

"I thought the Scottish loved their fish suppers." I said, wondering how many of the clichés I had yet to discover were untrue.

"We do – umm… did, but no fish can compare to a nice hunk of meat." Stewart explained.

"Ah," I nodded, unable to provide any recollection of my own. "So it wasn't the worst experience of your life?"

"It sated the thirst," he nodded.

"Not for long," I reminded him. Naturally, being on a strict diet makes one hungrier.

"You make it look so easy," he said, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees.

"It's ridiculously hard at first," I explained, "but with time and effort and practice, like anything, it grows easier."

"Spoken like one truly successful." He chuckled at his own expense. "The others – they don't think I'll make it."

"They all struggled too," I said. "Have you heard their stories?"

"No," he said, "we don't talk much."

"Ask them," I instructed. "Very inspirational."

"I'm sure." He leaned back, as if defeated. I decided to try and pique his interest.

"Jasper spent a long time living the other way. Occasionally, he still beats himself up over the time he took a snap at Bella."

"At Bella?" Stewart sat up a little again, now curious.

"Edward dated Bella while she was still human. They say that she was his singer – the pair of them became quite famous before the whole ordeal blew over. Lots of conflict over that – the Volturi weren't too happy with it either – but, as you know, Bella's one of us now. Jasper and Emmett had a bet going on how many people she was going to kill. She exceeded both of their expectations."

I stopped myself – I rarely spoke without thinking, and all of a sudden, I had said far too much. He would never want to keep trying if he knew that the others thought the odds were so stacked against him. Stewart took a moment to process my words, and surprised me with his next question. "His singer?"

"The most tempting blood he'd ever smelled – even with his years of success, Edward could barely control himself. He managed to overcome that."

"I wouldn't stand up against that," he acknowledged, "but I'm sure not everyone gets it right away."

"Carlisle and Rosalie are the only ones never to have tasted human blood."

"Oh," He said, asking no more questions. I fell into musing, though ignored my all-too-evident feelings for the man. Instead, I asked my most pressing question.

"Why do you confide in me, and no one else?"

Our once-eager conversation lapsed into silence. My question seemed to spark some inner dispute in Stewart, and he narrowed his eyes at the floor. I found myself doing the same. Was he angry with me? Had I insulted him, or pushed him too far with my questions?

It could have been a minute or an hour that we sat there in uncomfortable silence, avoiding each other's eyes. I was so sure that I'd stepped over some invisible line; that to talk about our own undefined relationship was taboo.

In this state of mind, I began to grieve; for my feelings, for our friendship – if it was even as much – and for the indubitable failure of this man at our diet. _Sorry_, I thought, _but how can we be in each other's company now?_

He surprised me. "I like you the best. You make an effort to understand people before judging them."

His own words left me speechless, and I struggled to form a reply. It was another five minutes of thought before I spoke.

"I think," I said slowly, well aware of Stewart's unpredictable temper, "that, given the situation, the Cullens are justly cautious."

He did not reply to this, and his face changed several times, as if about to make a retort, before becoming blank again. I knew as immediately as the words left my mouth that I had overstepped that precarious line this time; we could no longer be friends. I was on _their_ side; he wanted me on _his_ side, as if this were a game or a matter of right or wrong. I didn't know what to say to rectify the situation; I doubted that any of my words would hold any real weight.

How could I stay with him for any length of time now? I'd ripped that last straw to pieces with my cold words.

I stood, and took slow, cautious steps to the door. Stewart did not make a move to stop me, did not say anything. I did not look at his face, but I knew that he felt the same weight of the conversation as I did. How could I, always the cautious and analytical, not realize the consequences of my words? I was not attuned to emotion, and had no desire to be, yet for once I sincerely wished that I could read his expressive eyes. Were they filled with anger right now? With disgust? With the same anguish that I felt?

I closed the door behind me, and looked to Alice, who sat on the stairs waiting to take the shift after mine.

"Sorry." It was barely a whisper, though I knew both Alice and Stewart could hear it. I did not know who it was directed to, for what sin I sought forgiveness. But, in that moment, I truly was sorry.

Alice smiled in her oddly cheerful way, pausing before she opened the door to the small room, a sparkle in her eye.

"My vision hasn't changed."

I supposed that I was no longer needed.

**Reviews are appreciated. In the form of criticism, suggestions, ideas, brutal verbal mocking... **


	11. On My Own

**Author's Note: I wrote this chapter straight, and had so much fun trying to infuse some Lisa-angst. **

Chapter Eleven:

On My Own

It had been three days. Three obnoxiously long days, and three disheartening nights. I couldn't get it out of my system; the frustration. I couldn't get him out of my head.

"Lisa!" Alice's chirping voice broke through my inner turmoil, "are you going to participate? Or are you just going to stand there like a mannequin for a thrift store sale?"

My mind was too distant to register or even react to the insult. "I just don't feel much like shopping right now."

"You don't feel much like anything anymore." Molly grumbled, her own arms laden with pretty scarves and hats and a jacket or two.

"I'll just keep out of your way." I volunteered, and took a seat on a bench surrounding a fountain. I didn't want my own petty troubles to rain on anyone's parade.

I wouldn't tell Molly exactly how true her statement had become. Jasper had confronted me about the sudden change in emotion – not despair; I was just so lethargic. I'd wander around aimlessly, or sit and stare at a wall. I wasn't dealing with emotion; I didn't want to face it.

_This is why,_ I chided myself, _you don't fall head-over-heels for anything. You are a sensible girl, who deals with things in a collected and calm manner. You keep to yourself and rely on no one else for your life or happiness. You are responsible to your family as well as yourself – and this "love" isn't being responsible._

But the huge part of me that loved the man desperately argued with my brain. _If only love were that simple; if only this type of love were a choice. Now, I have to try and deal with this, and this is the best I can do on short notice._

"Lisa," Esme Cullen, ever gentle and eternally a mother, sat down next to me, "is everything going okay?"

I turned to look at her, and when I saw her reaction to my face, I wished that I could cry. She pulled me into a hug, and let me collect myself before suggesting, "Let us both get some coffee, and leave the shoppers to their own devices."

"We don't drink coffee." Mine was a feeble laugh, without much heart in it. My heart was occupied elsewhere.

"But coffee is warm," Esme whispered conspiratorially into my ear, and lead me towards a little café where we could talk without attracting attention.

I didn't want to talk, but I didn't know how to deny Esme anything. She was so genuinely sweet and caring; I knew she wasn't going to just let this drop. She knew me too well; of all of the members of the Cullen family, I would say that she knew me the best. She knew everyone well, in ways different than Edward or Jasper could; she cared about people, and noticed what made them happy and what made them sad.

A hot mug of coffee in my hand, and a kind gaze from the Cullen mother was all it took.

"I have eternity."

Esme tilted her head to the side, confused, and nodded as though to press me on.

"I have lived a long time alone, and okay with it. I'm not okay with it anymore. Finding what you and Carlisle have or Alice and Jasper have, or anyone in your family really – it's so rare. I could live forever, and I may never find it."

Esme sat silently for a moment, her hands eagerly holding the warm mug, her face as if she was concentrating.

"You don't like talking about this." She stated calmly, as if afraid I might become violent.

"No, I don't." I shook my head, and found myself slumping in my chair. I ignored the stares of the other customers at these two beautiful women; I ignored the noise of other shoppers, the chit chat and the music emanating from each store. Esme could see that I was struggling, and that was enough to make me want to crawl into a hole for the rest of eternity.

A hole, where I would be alone. I loved a man who did not love me back. If, after nearly seventy years, I had only just begun to love, what was the likelihood of me actually loving someone who _did_ love me back? There were billions in the world, though many fewer vampires. My future looked grim.

Esme posed a question, startling me. "Do you think you may already have found it?"

"Found what?"

"Love."

_Oh, no, no, no._ I was not having any discussion about Stewart. Was I that readable? Sure, Edward and Jasper knew – had they been horrible enough to spread the news throughout their family? The rest had not acted any differently towards me, though such a strong emotion was so completely out of character for me; so unexpected in such a predictable girl.

"Being in love is hardly a bad thing," Esme coaxed. "It's an admirable thing."

"But unrequited love is just pathetic."

I had admitted it. A split second decision, but no weight lifted from my shoulders, no easing of the wrenching in my gut. I had admitted it, and I felt no better. Did telling the truth truly set you free? Though, of course, Josh would have said that I had missed the point of the Bible verse, that _knowing_ the truth would set me free. I knew the truth: I loved a man. He did not care for me at all. Plain and simple; instead of freedom, I felt bound to this emotion, this "love."

"Do you feel pathetic?" She asked, as if it was inconceivable that I _feel_ such a way, much less _be_ such a thing.

"Worse," I said, not meeting her eyes, "I feel stupid."

"We both know that you are _not_ stupid."

We sat in silence for a few more minutes. Our coffee grew cold, and silently, Esme paid the bill and we left the café, beginning to walk slowly through the mall.

All of the craziness in my head wouldn't settle; I couldn't find a way to think clearly, to be logical. I could only find mayhem when I most craved peace. It was as if loving someone had changed the very essence of my character.

"I should know what to do."

My companion took a minute before replying. "I wish I could help you there."

We met the rest of the girls, laden with bags and eager to return home and fill their closets. Even Bella had taken much more of a shine to shopping, now that she had her own money to spend.

I sat in the backseat of Alice's fast and sporty car, ignoring Molly's giggles and chatter.

_Am I really doomed to being alone?_

I could only think of one way to handle the situation; I would have to accept it. I could not back out now, and I could not move forward now, without addressing what was in front of me. I was in love, and I was alone.

I found myself quietly humming the song, the lyrics drowning out all of the unsettled thoughts in my head.

_"Without me, his world will go on turning,_

_A world that's__ full of happiness that I have never known!_

_I love him,_

_I love him,_

_I love him, but only on my own."_

**Lyrics from "On My Own" from **

**Reviews are deeply appreciated. **


	12. Reconciliation

**Author's Note: I post a little sooner than as of late, purely because I was hit by a bus of inspiration. Muchas gracias to leiahlaloa, for all of her help. This is a nice short chapter, and I can promise an update tomorrow – when the action begins.**

Chapter Twelve:

Reconciliation

I watched from the window seat of the farmhouse as the group of boys trudged in from their hunting trip, thoroughly wet and muddy. Edward and Jasper hurriedly gave their mother a kiss on the cheek, and rushed to their own respective homes. I watched the welcome return, thinking myself silly for feeling lonely in my corner.

"Lisa," my brother gave me a hug, and sat down next to me. He must have been tipped off as to my rather-depressed state.

"How was your shopping trip?"

I shrugged, "I'm not much of a shopper. How was the hunting?"

"Nice," Josh said with a twinkle in his eye, "we went up to the Cairngorms and tracked a – but you don't really want to hear about it, do you?"

"Not really," I half-smiled.

He abruptly changed the subject. "You really should talk to him."

"Why?" I demanded, with no need to question who "him" was. Did Stewart's fickle desire for friendship catch up again? I shook my head, trying to rid myself of the array of emotions that followed his name.

"Just do it. Nike style."

I missed his reference, but decided to at least consider his advice. Accepting my fate should include being able to face it.

The rooms cleared out, Josh returned to the Shepherd's Cottage for a shower, and I remained seated, willing myself to walk away, but truly wishing I had the strength to go in there and talk to him.

What harm could it bring? Stewart obviously still wanted to try living the Cullens' lifestyle. I did have more than a few burning questions to ask him, and I always liked to have all the answers. _The most pertinent of those, you'll never ask him, _I thought grimly.

I felt like a thousand eyes were boring into me as I walked to the door of that tiny room, though no one was around. I hesitated, my hand gripping the knob, listening for noise inside. There was just a steady, quiet breathing; no movement.

I didn't want to risk startling him, so I knocked gently on the door, still listening for any indication as to his mood.

"Come in." Was the gruff reply.

I held my breath as I turned the knob and slid through the door. I closed the door behind me and stood there, a few feet away from where Stewart had stood upon my entrance, looking at me strangely.

I encouraged myself to just get it over with. The anticipation just made it worse. We weren't talking now – could the outcome really make our friendship deteriorate much more?

"Why do you submit to the Cullens and their diet if you have no respect for them?"

His look softened, though my question was rather sharp, and moved to sit on the mattress, indicating that I sit in the plastic chair. I obliged, and watch his face scrunch up and his eyes wander as he searched for his answer.

After a moment, he looked straight towards me, reading my face, as if searching for his answer there. I sat perfectly still, carefully keeping emotion from my features, not even moving my eyes, not blinking. I resisted the urge to sigh; I didn't want him to answer the way he thought I wanted to hear. He'd been straight with me from the beginning; why not now? I was working up the courage to say this, when he spoke.

"With every day around this family, things become clearer for me. Some things are worth the sacrifice."

His cryptic answer caught me off guard. I was unable to follow up with any of my other questions: _What do you consider me, a friend - or simply a confidante? Why did you agree to come here in the first place? Why haven't you told anyone yet about your gift, so they can stop worrying?_

I looked at his face, but I couldn't read it. Nothing in his tone or posture provided any clues either. I moved to stand, unable to bear much more in front of this man, and he surprised me by standing as well.

He gripped my hand in his and shook it politely, a hint of a smile at the corners of his lips.

I left confused, but with the odd feeling that we had just been reconciled.

I would ask more questions tomorrow.

**I love reviews. If you feel so inclined, I'd love to hear what you think.**


	13. Over Thinking

**Author's Note: Another chapter so soon! Enjoy.**

Chapter Thirteen:

Over-thinking

"Tell me more," I instructed. "Tell me about your vampire life."

Stewart looked uncomfortable, "What is there to tell? You know how it goes; just me and Yvonne, tromping all over the world, eating people."

"Surely you did more than just that."

"I told you; she was bossy, and I just did what I was told. That's the reason I left – because I didn't want to do what she told me to do. Of course, things like that always come back to bite you."

"What do you mean?"

"Well," Stewart stumbled to cover his error, "umm… Scotland is pretty small. I can't hide from her for eternity."

"We'll leave Scotland in a few years, and then you won't have to worry." I tried to be assuring, before realizing that I'd said "we" – as if Stewart and I would be together! I gave myself a moment to think over what I'd said. Would he notice? Did I put an emphasis on the "we" by accident, so he'll catch on?

"Until then," he said, "I'm going to worry."

I breathed an almost-audible sigh of relief; he'd been too worried about that _other _woman's infatuation for him.

_Not like you're any better,_ I reminded myself.

"I should tell you…" Stewart trailed off, as if he wasn't really sure if he _should_ tell me, which naturally piqued my curiosity.

"Tell me what?"

At that moment, a flurry of footfalls threatened to batter down the house, the most urgent coming towards the small room. Stewart smiled sadly, "A long story for another day."

"I'll hold you to that," I tried to make a stern face, "vampires never forget."

The door burst open, letting in a rush of air. Alice swung in, as if in a race, and closed the door behind her.

"Molly isn't answering her handheld." Alice's ominous tone made the simple statement seem like the Apocalypse.

"Maybe she doesn't have it with her?" I suggested, impatient that I couldn't return to my conversation with a man I secretly loved.

"She never leaves without it. You know her." Alice said in earnest. True, Molly was bound to her handheld the same way humans were bound to their tattoos, but I was more than a little annoyed at the disturbance that kept Stewart from divulging one of his more precious secrets, to see the issue.

"And she didn't tell anyone where she was going? She's not off hunting?"

"I believe we all witnessed the conversation yesterday surrounding her need to shop more than hunt. She said she was good for at least another week." Alice, naturally, had agreed with my sister on this point.

I pinched the bridge of my nose, though it did no good. I looked to Stewart, excusing myself, before finding the entire Cullen family plus Josh, assembled in the living room.

I took a seat in the corner of a couch, and listened to the discussion.

"We last saw her last night." Bella spoke for herself and Edward, "and all of her stuff is still in the guest room."

"She didn't take the car," Josh added.

"She couldn't anyway – she doesn't have a license." Carlisle reminded us. "She ran."

"She left no message?" Esme wondered, beginning to scroll frantically through the Cullen-family wallboards' messages.

"She knows better than this," Josh said, a little exasperated.

"She's irresponsible," I blurted out, irritated, "and flighty."

"Whoa!" Emmett chuckled, "did something happen between the two of you?"

"No," I said, mentally berating myself for the outburst, so uncharacteristic. "But this isn't exactly the first time this sort of thing has happened. She's worse than Peter Pan – she refuses to grow up."

"That's not necessarily a bad thing," Edward spoke so quietly, I was sure no one else noticed.

"You can see inside her head. What was up?" I asked, drawing attention to his comment.

"I keep as far away from all of your minds as possible. Nothing stuck out." Edward tried to explain away his own blunder – though I was sure he knew more about Molly than he let on. "You're right – she's flighty, but she doesn't just wander off without reason."

"Did anyone try tracking her?"

"The trail is old," Alice said, "she left last night, alone. I can't see her coming back either."

I finally began to worry. I was hesitant to mention to the group that she probably just went hunting; she was strong, but far weaker than the rest of us. Like Jasper, she had spent plenty of time on the other diet. She was only strong because she was careful to avoid temptation. I suspected that shopping had been more detrimental than she let on. Nonetheless, Molly didn't want anyone to notice her weakness. She _would_ have been home by now.

It was the first time in weeks that I'd paid any attention to my little sister. I used to be so concerned for her, after the ordeal she and Josh had endured last fall. Was this her way of claiming attention? Had her misery finally swallowed her, and no one was paying enough attention to notice? Josh seemed to be doing well – but he had Edward and Bella to support him. Molly put up a façade with Alice and Rosalie; as close friends as they were, she didn't want them to see her suffer.

She was Molly, eternal teenager and loving it. What had gone wrong? I was responsible for her – I prided myself on making solid decisions for my coven, and I'd become distracted. I let my feelings for Stewart get in the way of my role as leader; and now, Molly was gone.

She left of her own will; I was sure of that. As the rest of the group began stressing and trying to come up with ideas, I knew one solid detail. This was Molly's decision.

Maybe she didn't want to come back. Maybe there was nothing that could be done.

"Lisa," Edward spoke to me quietly, "you're over-thinking everything."

"Surely you can sympathize then," I snapped back, hardly in the mood.

The stress must have affected Stewart, because, all of a sudden, he disappeared. Needing to get away from the incessant freaking-out myself, I returned to the small room.

"Stewart, calm down. This isn't help-."

The room was empty. There was a note on the bed.

_I know where she is – S._

**Review my dear friends! Review! I have found myself more than a little discouraged as of late, and the only reason I keep plodding on with this story (as fun as it is) is that, by posting it, I made a commitment to finish it! I'd love to hear **_**anything**_** from **_**anyone**_** regarding what they think (even if it's only, "your chapters are to short" or "I don't like this story.")**


	14. Time

**Author's Note: I got three reviews last chapter, and in lieu of the huge hug I want to give you, I'm writing the next chapter. ****Surely it's a good sign when my thirteen-chapter story finally bypasses a one-shot in number of hits.**

Chapter Fourteen:

Time

"Lisa?" Edward had shown up in the doorway within seconds of my discovery. So much for his staying out of our heads.

"She definitely didn't just go back to Muchalls."

Carlisle showed up in the doorway, scrutinizing the note as soon as I handed it to him. "What do you know?"

I combed my memory for any details. Of all of the things we had discussed, everything seemed irrelevant now. I came up blank. "Not much."

"You have nothing to work on?" Carlisle asked. The entire family was crowding around the entry to the small room now. I suddenly felt a little claustrophobic, with everyone watching me, maybe even criticizing me.

"Let me out of here," I choked out as I pushed my way out of the room and back into the hallway. I took a deep breath.

_Think rationally._ I tried to calm myself. I turned from the desperate faces surrounding me. _Think rationally._

"Stewart was trying to tell me something, just before you told us that Molly had gone missing. If he _thinks_ he knows where she is, then it probably had something to do with that. There's plenty I don't know about him."

"What about Yvonne?" Edward suggested. "She's still searching for him."

"You're suggesting that she's been kidnapped?" Despite the incredulity in Carlisle's voice, we could all see him mulling over the possibilities. Esme let out a sort of hopeless moan for the lost girl, and plopped in frustration on the stairs.

"So her ransom for Molly would be his release?" Jasper suggested. It was hard to think clearly with all of these paralyzing possibilities swirling through my head.

"A kidnapping…" Carlisle mulled over this for a moment, "another vampire has to be the only other reason for her disappearance. Either she left of her own free will, or she left unwillingly. Molly could get herself out of any other dangerous situation."

"But not away from another vampire?" I wondered aloud. A vampire feeding off human blood would be stronger than Molly, but Molly would be more levelheaded and rational.

"Yvonne isn't exactly a small woman," Carlisle said with a grimace, evidently uncomfortable with the observation.

"So we need places to look," Bella said, probably already formulating a plan.

This time, I had information to offer, however little or insignificant.

"Stewart said that they spent some time traveling throughout continental Europe, mostly in the interest of foreign flavors." My joke was weak, and of poor taste. I tried to think more locally. "Yvonne found him in Anstruther, though I doubt that's much help."

We all seemed to start pacing at the same time, in various directions, each deep in thought. I could imagine us all wearing down paths in the hallway, like in old cartoons. I needed to keep serious though. I'd made a bad decision recently that had both jeopardized lives and destroyed the confidence of my family. I wasn't about to let my ignorance be the cause of someone's downfall.

"She could be anywhere by now," Esme worried aloud from her seat on the stairs, leaning against the wall in thought. Alice was close to pounding the wall in aggravation at being unable to see anything yet.

"We should split up," Bella suggested, "and stick to Scotland for now. If Stewart knows where she is, and had hope to catch up, then we have reasonable hope she's only a few hours away. Less if we run."

"Unless Stewart just wanted a chance to get away," Josh sounded unusually cynical, finally joining the conversation. He and Molly were close, so this would hit him hard – I made a mental note to watch him. He was never one for self loathing, until last fall, and I didn't want him going down that path again. It certainly wasn't his fault that she was missing.

"And go where?" I had come to trust Stewart, and wanted to support him, but I could feel that twinge of irrationality. My brother didn't trust him, however, and he had a point.

Rosalie jumped in to change the subject. "Emmett and I will take the west coast, below the Clyde – we can use our house as a meeting place if necessary."

Edward and Bella decided to take his fastest car through the country roads and Highlands. Carlisle and Esme would search Glasgow and Edinburgh, and then move along the east coast towards the borders. That left the road up north to Josh and I; we'd stop in Anstruther and at home in Muchalls along the way.

There was a flurry of movement as we returned our respective lodgings to pick up handhelds and water-proof clothing. Josh, as righteous as he seemed, was far more comfortable with breaking speed limits than I was, and I willingly handed over the keys.

Still, each movement was too slow. I constantly battled the urge to jump out and run, knowing it to be completely impractical. Stewart was gone, and my sister was missing.

Time moved too quickly, even for vampires.

**Reviews would be much appreciated! Also, for fans of So Fair and Foul a Day, I'm going through and editing (once again) some of the chapters that, in retrospect, didn't really flow (don't worry though – I'm not changing any important details).**


	15. Promise

**Author's Note: Another short chapter as we continue the action. I'm working up to a lot of answers in the upcoming chapters.**

Chapter Fifteen

Promise

"Josh," I moaned, staring out the window at the wet countryside. Wet went perfectly with my feelings right now. Dismal, hopeless.

"I can't drive any faster," he grunted in reply, pushing the engine anyway. We hadn't found anything, and it had been hours. The only phone call we'd received informed us that Emmett was pretty sure their portion of the coast was vampire free. I still didn't believe that "pretty sure" was good enough.

I'd lost a sister and a friend in the same moment.

Was there any point in looking? Was it likely that we would get Molly back? No. Was it likely that I would ever see Stewart again? I remembered Josh's disgruntled words as we combed his hometown of Anstruther.

_"He's probably halfway to Siberia by now."_

I didn't like the odds. I said this aloud.

"The Cullens always manage to push those slim odds. With them, a chance – no matter how small – is still a chance." Josh reminded me.

"We're not the Cullens," I sulked, sliding down further in my seat. I wanted to run, to tear buildings apart and to yell for them. I wanted to knock something down. I took a calming breath and remembered not to think destructive thoughts. There was no need to make temptation any worse. We had no idea what we would find.

_If we find anything._

It was dusk when we arrived at our tiny house. Surrounded by open country, we would have been alert to any other vampires. The only scents we could find were our own – stale from the amount of time we'd spent with the Cullens.

Nonetheless, I ran from the car and burst into the house. Nothing was disturbed. I sprinted to Molly's room and threw open the closet. She had left her things at the Shepherd's Cottage, and if she'd left willingly, she would have stopped here for some more clothes. She wouldn't be able to touch her accounts if she didn't want us to track her.

I began rummaging through Molly's highly disorganized desk, and the files where I knew she kept her important documents. I knew that she didn't go to her apartment in Manhattan. Molly hadn't taken any of her traveling documents. Jasper had run a search on her credit cards – she hadn't bought a plane, train, or bus ticket.

Suddenly, I felt even more hopeless. Molly Johnson wasn't just safe and accounted for somewhere else. She was genuinely lost. It was my fault.

If I hadn't been so preoccupied – but I knew that I needed to be paying attention! I knew that she was functioning now, but she was nowhere near over what had happened.

I stepped out of the room and closed the door, ashamed of the mess I'd left in my haste. A sob burst from Molly's darkroom, but it wasn't the voice of my sister.

Josh was on the floor, his head bowed in prayer. I closed the door behind me and sat on the floor next to him, waiting for his fervent intercession to finish. We could use all the help we could get.

It was five painful and slow minutes before Josh looked up. In his hands he held a photograph – Molly had taken a group picture; Josh and I engrossed in a card game, Molly making a silly face in the midst of our concentration. It was from the night of our "slumber party" – eternities ago, it seemed.

"We are going to find her." Josh stated – more for his own benefit than mine.

His resolution struck a chord within me. "Yes, we are."

I locked the house up as we left with a renewed sense of purpose to each of our steps. Still, as the wheels of the small car began flying over the country roads, I felt a horrible nagging.

"Promise me, Josh," I whispered. I doubted that he even heard.

"I promise."

My handheld buzzed, tearing through the tension and desperation in the car like a laser cutting through a diamond. Carlisle's voice broke through the palpable anxiety, a friendly noise amid the confusion.

"Turn around. Come back to Anstruther."

It wasn't much. They hadn't found Molly, nor had they found Stewart. But it was something. It was hope.

The car had never moved faster.

**Reviews, my pretties, and your little dog too! (Assuming, of course, that your dog can read – or type).**


	16. Found

**Author's Note: It's been a very long time, and I was horrible and left you ****with a cliff-hanger. I promise**** that ****it ****won't happen again.**** We're nearing the end here, where I will finally take some time off to write one-shots and actually study.**

Chapter Sixteen

Found

A little outside of the seaside town, the sickening smell of burning vampire led us straight to our friends. We were the first ones to arrive, our small car throwing mud as we slid to a stop behind Carlisle's car.

Molly sat huddled on the ground, obviously beaten, as Carlisle assessed her injuries. Esme stood back by their car, the tear in her shirt and mud on her jeans indicating a fight, watching the smoldering remains of Yvonne, who had been searching for Stewart, with satisfaction written clearly across her face. I was never able to picture gentle Esme as the violent type, though I'd been told that she'd seen her fair amount of action. "Mothers' instinct," she called it – her unwavering defense of her family.

Stewart stood away from the little group, looking lost and anxious, like a young child amongst a group of strangers. As Josh hurried towards Molly, I walked calmly towards Stewart, to give him a hug.

He hadn't expected it, not from me. I wasn't much for public displays of affection, but this man had saved my sister. He had proved himself, despite his unpredictable humors, to be trustworthy. I told him so, my arms still wrapped around his neck, rather unwilling to let go.

His only reply was a mutter. "I still can't believe that she's gone."

I wasn't Jasper – I couldn't decipher emotion. I wasn't Edward – I didn't know what was going at one moment in someone's head. But the tone of his voice told me something shocking, and I found myself taking a step back.

I bit my lip, preventing myself from screaming it aloud in incredulity. I couldn't say it aloud – I couldn't let it be true. Why, if it was true, did he come after Molly? Why did he try to live by our diet?

Why did he lead me on?

Why, if he was someone else's mate?

I found myself moving on automatic, distracted by my thoughts. I pulled my sister into a hug, telling her how fervently glad I was that she was okay. I thanked Carlisle for his help; I allowed Esme to hug me and tell me how much we really were like family to her. I ignored the looks I was getting from Edward and Jasper as the rest of the Cullens arrived, instead watching as the group alternately thanked Stewart or exclaimed over how glad they were to find Molly safe.

The group arrived back at the farm in joyful spirits. The sun had decided to shine, and no one was any worse for wear, save for being in desperate need of a shower. Molly lay down in the guest room we occupied, giving herself time to recuperate. I walked outside in the fields until I reached an old tree swing, out of sight of the cottage.

The way the earth smelled fresh and clean, and the sun shone warmly on my skin did nothing to lift my mood, as I spun slowly, sitting on the tire suspended from an ancient branch. I felt so foolish, and allowed myself to wallow in self-pity for a while.

Nothing had changed in my life after all. I felt love for a man whose mate my friends had killed. More complicated than an episode of "Surgery in Seattle," there was nothing I could do to make things easier. Stewart would never want me. Molly and Josh would never understand.

I wanted nothing more than to get back home to Muchalls, to find a new job and to send my brother and sister to school, and to see the Cullens once every few years - like life was once again normal. I snorted aloud; Josh would say that "You can't always get what you want."

I stood from the swing and looked to the hill beyond the edge of the Cullens' property. I could get away from this mess for a few hours, before I had to tell the Cullens that we needed to return home. I couldn't support Stewart any more – it ached too much, all over my body, to look at him or think about him. They would survive without us.

My decision made, I took off at a run.

**As I begin to wrap up this tale, any thoughts? Any favorite moments? I've created several new characters – any likes or dislikes? Did you feel like the Cullens deserved time in the action? **

**I particularly want to write Molly'****s story, for myself primarily****, but I have my doubts about posting it. It would serve as a stand-alone from these past two stories, and delve specifically into the thoughts of a young and angry vampire**** (but ****worry**** not**** my friends,**** a certain golden-eyed vampire is especially influential to the story). Is there any interest?**


	17. Fine

Chapter Seventeen:

Fine

"I'm concerned about you." Molly cornered me as I wound down from a flurry of packing.

"You shouldn't be," I muttered, but she still heard me.

"I was the one kidnapped, and I'm not even this worked-up about it. Do you hate Stewart that much for coming to rescue me? Is this about Yvonne? 'Cause, she _is_ dead, you know?" Molly stepped in my way as I tried to maneuver around her.

"Are you done now? I need to make sure Josh is ready to go."

"You don't _need_ to do anything," Molly pulled me to the couch. I had forgotten that, for someone so small, she was strong. Her stern gaze - combined with the experience that Molly wasn't one for giving up - made me plop right down next to her, if just to get it over with.

"Why are we leaving?"

That was easy. "We aren't needed here any longer, and I don't want to intrude upon the Cullens', despite their generous hospitality, more than is necessary."

"You're so close to Stewart though!" Molly was incredulous. "How can you so much as think that you're not needed anymore?"

"Because he's going to get on fine without me," I said, indicating that the conversation was over.

Josh walked in at that moment and sat on the unused coffee table, facing the couch.

"What is this?" I cried, wanting desperately to tear my hair out in frustration, "An intervention?"

"Yes." Molly and Josh answered together, without missing a beat.

Did they seriously think that I had lost it somewhere over the Forth Road Bridge? Had they not known me for forty years? They knew that I was a steady person – that I knew what I wanted and where I was going and that I had a plan. My plan was to go home, and we would all be fine without the Cullens – or Stewart – we would be fine.

We would be fine.

Josh nearly bowled me over with his worried stare. "Do you seriously think everything's going to be fine if we just up and leave?"

Someone had been spending too much time with Edward. Who were these people, and what had they done with the siblings that trusted my decisions implicitly? We _were_ going to be fine.

"I have a hunch." I snarled. It came out angrier than I had intended, and lost its persuasive value.

"Alice has hunches too, and she says that it's not all going to go as well as you seem to think it will. Not if we leave."

Generally, Alice's hunches were stronger than my own,

"I have no plans to do anything incredibly reckless or stupid in the future," I promised, with real conviction.

"Um, yes you do," Molly snorted.

"Alice has been wrong before," I reminded her, with a little less conviction this time. What had Alice seen? Her visions were never wrong, just her interpretations. What would go wrong?

"We're betting on Alice," Molly and Josh spoke simultaneously yet again. They were ganging up on me, and I was in no way prepared to battle that. The truth was, they were getting to me – I just wasn't ready to admit it yet.

"What exactly _did_ Alice see me doing?"

"Oh, not you! Nothing like that," Molly looked relieved, as if she had suddenly figured out where the hole was in her argument. A moment later, her voice became soft - as if she was entering dangerous territory.

"It's Stewart."

It felt like the world around me froze. Molly's big eyes and Josh's concerned gaze bore into me. If I had needed to breathe, I would be wheezing and sputtering. I was leaving because I didn't want to be a part of Stewart's life anymore – but _nothing_ bad was ever supposed to come of it.

I couldn't think; my usually prompt and logical response was just as frozen as I was – my mouth half open, my eyes glazed, and my hand unmoving in mid-air.

_No._ We were going to be fine. This wasn't going to happen.

_No._ We were going to be fine. I had promised. Alice was wrong.

"Lisa?" Molly asked hesitantly. Her words cut through the chilly air – cut through me – and the spell was broken.

I spoke. "Why?"

Josh wasn't much of a softie, but he seemed to let go of being uncomfortable as he pulled me into a hug, his voice almost laughing at my obliviousness.

"He loves you, Lisa."

I sat back and turned to Molly for confirmation, my mind suddenly racing. She nodded slowly, adding, "More than we ever have, or ever could."

I sank into the couch cushions, unsure of how to react. My mind was jumping all over the place – Stewart's face at the center of all my thoughts.

But, logically, I couldn't believe them. He couldn't love me – and I couldn't let my heart be broken over this.

He didn't love me. It was as simple as that. I would be fine about it. We would all be very fine.

"Lisa?" "Lisa!" My siblings once again broke through my reverie.

Maybe it was the look on their faces – incredulous or shocked maybe – as they realized that I was in love with this curious, unruly man that was nothing but the opposite of me. I made one more split-second decision; the last one, I promised myself.

It was only fair, I reasoned, to give Stewart a chance to justify himself. I needed the closure of saying goodbye.

"Where are you going?" I was at the door, and Molly was hurrying after me, tugging on my arm. I turned around slowly, trying to find the right words to express this particular emotion, so unfamiliar to me.

"I need to know."

She let me go.

_Everything will be fine._

**Reviews are lovely things.**


	18. Explanations

**Author's Note: Here we go, m'dears – it's the second to last chapter (not including the epilogue). Special thanks to leiahlaloa for her invaluable help with this chapter.**

Chapter Eighteen:

Explanations

"I'm sorry." Stewart apologized as I closed the door behind me.

"Excuse me?" Had Alice seen something – said something? Alice wasn't in the house right now.

"I need to come clean." Stewart said simply, gesturing to the plastic chair that I traditionally occupied. As much as I was angry and desperate to have an excuse to get out and back to a semblance of normal, I had come to hear Stewart's side of the story.

"I think you do."

"You were angry," he stated simply, sitting on the mattress. "When you found me, you were angry that I hadn't told you the whole story."

I nodded, not trusting myself to speak rationally.

"She means nothing to me now," He was careful to begin. "I cannot feel anything but anger towards someone who could do something so base – so disgraceful.

"I did care for her… once. She was my only friend in this very dark life. You know what it's like – you have no one to talk to and it would be so easy to go crazy and you'll take whatever you can get…" He trailed off and reconsidered his train of thought.

"She was angry when I didn't marry her; she wanted to be mates 'officially.' I couldn't – I didn't want to. Maybe I'm old fashioned – I don't think I'm old fashioned, but then I don't really know – I mean, the things people do today! I did not love her; she wasn't all bad, but there was so little good in her. I could _never_ have loved her. I wasn't going to tie myself to someone that I didn't love."

This revelation rocked me. I missed the significance of the emphasis he put on the fact that he had not ever loved her – all that mattered to me was that he wasn't in love with her right now. He was not her mate in mourning, and he hadn't withheld the truth from me. The look on his face, however, told me that there was a story here – things he had not told me. Things that he felt obligated to tell me.

"She didn't want me to leave her, so she killed my family. It wasn't exactly safe for me there; I wasn't about to give up our secret to them – but something broke in me. Those people were more than just food – more than just a tool for her to get her way. They were my brother and sisters – my mother and father!

"She was always planning – maybe you would have gotten along. No – I can't say that. You are nothing like Yvonne – you aren't a monster. You don't make plans to get your own way; you make the best decision for everyone involved. There is so much good in you."

He spent a moment in quiet reflection, before continuing his tale, his tone a little more on edge than before.

"But I digress… She had changed someone years ago, in America; when she heard that the Cullens had come here, she was desperate to meet them. Of all the powerful covens in the world, the Cullens have connections. She hoped that they knew where she could find this vampire.

"You see, when Yvonne made plans, she really made plans. She chose her victims for reasons; she watched them, knew their strengths and weaknesses. We served a purpose. I was athletic and sneaky – and attractive, apparently. _You_ were smart."

There was an abrupt cease in the narrative. Stewart's eyes swept questioningly across my face and I began to digest his last statement. Until now, I sat listening in rapt attention, my elbows on my knees and my chin on my fists. Now, I jumped up – angrier now than ever before, wishing that I hadn't come to hear this ugly truth. I had been happy in my ignorance – and now I loved a man that I couldn't even trust. If I couldn't trust him with the important things… My resolution became firmer, and I wanted nothing more than to get as far away from him as I could.

"And I've said too much," Stewart muttered, standing and gripping my arm as I moved towards the door.

"No," I growled, shoving him away, "You've said far too little, far too late."

"Let me explain!" He begged, reaching once again to stop me.

I whirled around, my back to the door but my hand gripping the handle – almost a little too tightly. "How could you explain this?"

"Just, sit down," Stewart said with an uncharacteristic calm. My mind was barely working anymore – I let him lead me to the chair and sat submissively. I let him continue.

Stewart took his time sitting down again, thinking through his words. He moved to start several sentences, but then reconsidered, before he finally spoke. "She was going to send me to meet the Cullens, in case they were violent – like I was her servant or a dog! I was so sick of her – why should I let anyone else suffer as I did? I refused to do it.

"Imagine my surprise when I finally left her – and came upon the Cullens. I watched them for a while, genuinely curious. That beast had killed my own family without a moments' hesitation, yet these vampires could walk around amongst humans as if it were the easiest thing in the world!"

I couldn't accept his justification, not just yet. True enough, he had meant no harm – what irrational part of my mind had dared blame him for my creation? Still, a single thought nagged at me, and I couldn't help but voice it.

"So, we're like a brother and sister? And after all this time we've spent together, you just – I don't know – didn't _feel like_ telling me?"

Stewart laughed; a solid, full, hoot. I tilted my head forward and raised my eyebrows – I didn't see this as funny.

"Hardly!"

I bristled a little at the tone of his laughter; I felt so inferior and silly. Still, I breathed a sigh of relief at his pronouncement. I let myself hope, just a little, that since he was single and eligible and I was completely enamored of him, he might just like me back.

Stewart collected himself and spoke, his voice quieter – as if he was unsure of how I would accept his words.

"You are so much more than a sister – and how could I tell you? How would you react? I so abhor her now; abhor those feeding habits now; still, the only reason I've been okay at this is because of you – and I couldn't do that to you."

I tilted my head in surprise. How had I helped him? I had not gone hunting with him. I had not given him "pep talks" or advice. We were just friends who sat in this small room and talked over everything and nothing. _No,_ I reminded myself, _he'__s _**just**_ answered the mystery of your rebirth – after all this - you certainly didn't talk about everything.__Even if he thought he was protecting you... Why would he want to protect you? What's going on in his head? _Still, I couldn't see how any of my actions might have helped him.

"How?" I asked, when what I really wanted to know was, _"Could y__ou possibly feel the same way__ I do?"_

He smiled at my confusion, but his eyes were hurt, as if I was missing something huge – something important - even I could confirm that. I didn't have time to worry, however, because his next words were far too important to miss.

"You don't see it, do you Lisa... You have no idea that you've been a friend to me, when all the Cullens saw in me was the criminal in need of reform." He seemed to stumble over his words, coming out in a rush of breath between abrupt pauses and half-formed phrases. "You've been a companion in these long days that comprise our mundane eternity… What I mean is… Well - you are smart and logical and organized – but you aren't condescending – no, not at all! And… well – you're beautiful. What I mean to say… I suppose…"

"Well, um… thank -" I began to stutter my appreciation for his compliment, but Stewart wasn't finished.

"Lisa, I love you."

**Reviews would be wonderful (maybe**** as good as handing me an Edward…**** or a Fiyero…**** or a Stewart!**


	19. Point A to Point B

**My friends, we have arrived**** at the final chapter… aided by much Skillet, this is maybe my personal favorite chapter. ****Thus, I'm doing all the author's noting at the beginning here. We have only the epilogue left; it'll be coming, along with an afterword, so watch out. Also, when I wrote Stewart's character, I had an image in my head – as time went on, I realized that he looked like someone (someone famous… and hot!) **** So, I make a reference to it in this chapter, and the challenge:**** who does Stewart look like?**

**Finally, many thanks for sticking with me all this way. **

Chapter Nineteen:

Point A to Point B

In retrospect, "umm" probably wasn't the best response. Shaking Stewart's hand and walking out of that room might have been counter-productive as well.

But I couldn't decide.

From where I stood, in the middle of an empty field, everything should have been clear.

Nothing was clear.

Did I tell him how I felt? Suddenly, I couldn't remember. I didn't think that I had. But I wasn't sure anymore.

Did I voice all of my worries? We'd only known each other for such a little while. Nothing permanent could be built on that, could it? Would this just end as a fling? Stewart was indecisive and unpredictable, such a contrast to my own character. What if he just decided he didn't want me anymore?

He hadn't even said that he _did_ want me. He had only told me that he loved me. What did that mean? Was it an "I love you, sis?" Was it a "we're dating and I want to get into your pants" kind of love?

Or was it the intense rumble beneath all of his other thoughts? Not the romantic, mushy love of movies and books, but the crazy, incomprehensible love that made you simultaneously want to scream and laugh - the same type of love that I felt.

I was used to thoughts in a row. From point A to point B to point C, I checked off lists in my mind. I knew where I was going and where I had come from. I had a sentence formed in my head before I spoke. I used formulas and rules to find solutions to problems. I didn't think outside of the box; I loved the box. It was very square, and square was good.

Until I met Stewart. Never before had I blurted out words, in hope that they conveyed the idea I meant. Never before had I questioned my actions. Never before had emotions been important.

Did he love me? A real, true love, like the love I saw between Carlisle and Esme, where two beings complemented and supported each other so fully?

I stood, staring at the ground, my mind spinning. Jumping around from point A to point D. I vaguely remembered the feeling of being ill as a child – the feverish spinning of my mind – but this was worse. I could process things in a millisecond, so it was as if time had slowed down around me and I was still moving at warp-speed.

I reverted to the simplest form of thought I could. I knew that I would get my clothes muddy, but I wanted to look at the cloudy sky. I wanted to feel unencumbered by this confusing spinning. So, I flopped backwards onto the grass.

Staring at the sky, I pulled myself further from those thoughts spinning above me. I wanted to be absorbed by the ground, into nothingness.

Nothingness.

Not confusing.

Not anything.

Just… _not_.

From that nothingness, all of my worries, all of my questions, everything just seemed to fade away. I was aware that I, a vampire, lay on the murky ground in a field in the middle of Scotland. Above me, there was sky. Below me, there were worms.

Clarity. It was a beautiful thing. I didn't even feel the slow drip of coming rain on my hyper-sensitive skin. I didn't hear the steady pattering of it's fall with my over-attentive ears. Everything was obscured by the overwhelming presence of a singular truth.

It was quite simple really. After all of the memories stopped bouncing around off each other, I could hear Molly's stern warning.

_" Alice has hunches too, and she says that it's not all going to go as well as you seem to think it will. Not if we leave." _

I had seen the breakdown of a man who had failed at keeping his resolution, who had broken his diet. My brother was a strong man with a resilient faith, and he had shattered. He was probably still piecing himself back together, little by little. But, after all was said and done, it was well.

I had been a newborn, with terrifying urges to kill. I knew the taste of human blood; I knew the temptation. It had been harder than any puzzle, and success wasn't cut out in an even path. I had made it through; it was well.

Why, then, was Stewart destined to fail? What variable had changed? This variable couldn't be removed from the equation. He would fall without it.

Of all the things that I knew about Stewart, I couldn't find any reason for him not to succeed. He was a determined man, and he didn't want to turn back to his old ways.

I had heard tales of creatures gone wild when they had lost their mates. I'd heard horrific murmurings of a time within the Cullen family – of encounters with the Volturi, of a vengeful redhead – and I could hardly imagine the consequences, should one of them lose a mate.

Stewart claimed to love me. He had come to appreciate our ways through the time he spent with me; he was doing this for me. With all of the Cullens betting against him, he would have none of the support that had enabled my own success. He needed me, because he loved me. Alice was right – take me out of the equation, and it would all come crashing down.

It was so simple. Point A to point B, everything lined up. I could draw a map or make an outline if I wanted to, it was so neat.

I stood from the ground, drenched, my clothes ruined. I began to make a list.

Point A: I fell in love.

Point B: Stewart told me of his feelings.

Point C: I realized that he did, in fact, love me.

And now, Point D: I needed to tell him of my own feelings.

My legs were carrying me across the field, pounding down the driveway, hopping over the gate and crossing to the farmhouse. My mind was easy, my heart was light. I could skip – I did. I threw open the door with no regard for politeness and ran to Stewart's room; unconscious of the amused look Rosalie gave Emmett in the living room. I didn't care what anyone thought, anyway.

Stewart was beautiful. From his stubbly chin to his mussed golden hair to his unease as he stood. His beautiful rugged look reminded me of a character from an old TV show that I had loved for its puzzles. Men didn't like to be described as beautiful, yet he was nothing but beautiful. He was looking at me; his eyes, showing the early signs of orange flecks, brimming with such sadness from my rejection, were infused with sudden hope.

It would have taken all I had not to kiss him, but I wasn't in control of myself right now, so I did just that.

When I stepped back, his eyes were nothing but happy as he grasped my wrists and smiled.

"Is that an 'I love you, too?'"

"No!" I laughed, and suddenly he was sad again. I pulled my hand from his and placed it on the back of his neck, pulling him closer to me, so that our eyes were on the level and our foreheads nearly touching.

"It's an 'I love you, now you'd better stick around for a while.'"

I moved to kiss him again, but he moved quickly, his fingers covering my lips.

"Well, I'm sorry, but I might just stick around for forever."


	20. Epilogue and Afterword

**Author's Note: Not much to say here, though I apologize for the wait – NaNoWriMo and all – and be prepared to read the afterword at the end!**

Epilogue

So Much Happy

"Ugh," Jasper grunted and plopped onto one of our brand new, beautiful white sofas. "There hasn't been so much happy around here since the day everyone stopped trying to kill Bella."

"Deal with it," Molly growled, coming to my defense. She was ecstatic to see her old friends, but lately she had sworn a fierce loyalty to me, with her exaggerated weeping, "my big sister's finally growing up."

It was the day before my wedding to the man of my dreams – if, indeed, I could dream. It might have taken six years, but Stewart was getting stronger at resisting his thirst with every passing day. While he claimed that his love for me had given him supernatural anti-human-blood strength, I was content with the more reasonable explanation that he just had excellent motivation; I had told him that I wouldn't marry him until I was certain he wouldn't eat the minister.

Our home tucked into the Northern-most corner of Norway was beautiful, spacious, well-lit and well-hidden. The Cullens had taken time from their lives in Canada to join us for the wedding, and Molly and Josh were at home for the first time in months. For the first time in as long as I could remember, I was truly giddy.

My brother had chosen to study Scandinavian Literature at the University of Oslo, over 2000 kilometers away. My sister had been traveling on her independently on a quest to learn more about international art and photography, most recently in Japan. I was content to live alone with my soon-to-be husband, occasionally making our way into local towns to shop, to keep Stewart's control in check and to practice speaking the native language.

I hadn't asked to be the responsible for my adopted brother and sister – who now planned to strike out on their own for a while, insisting that they would not intrude on Stewart's and my "newlywed joy" – but now I felt sad, as if this signaled the end of an era. I hadn't sought out the help of the Cullens in my early days – yet despite all the trouble our coven had tossed onto them, they had dropped everything to come to the wedding. Now, as I looked upon my family and friends, I realized that I had made a home for myself – in an odd and dysfunctional way – but still a home.

"What're you thinking?" A familiar voice tickled my ear.

"About how happy I am," I leaned back into the arms that now circled my waist, reveling in the love they held. It was so sappy, but I was beyond caring.

"That there's finally someone around here with the know-how to fix your car?" I chuckled – of all the things I could piece together, cars were just not my forte. There was no reason for me not to understand them; yet, the concepts remained just out of my grasp.

"Actually, I was thinking of something much better," there was a smile in my voice, and I knew that Stewart picked up on it.

"Really now?" He turned me to face him and kissed me deeply. I looked up at him, with his sappy-romantic smile and his glittering eyes. I truly was home.

And it felt so right.

**Afterword:**

**I'll be honest – this story isn't my favorite so far – but I had a ridiculous amount of fun writing it. I feel like, as I challenge myself to write characters ****so ****strikingly different from myself, I learn more about my own style and the unique challenges I will face in my own writing – especially in the words I use too often**** (you know what they are)**

**I used a great variety**** of music to get me through this story, my selections often reflecting the mood of the chapter. I cannot reconcile the mood-enhancing nature of listening to music with the distracting nature of it, and so I will continue to listen and just have to accept that sometimes I'll have to get up and dance/belt out lyrics****, instead of working**** I continue to insist that sound****tracks are excellent to write to**** – particularly "Les Miz," "Rent," and "You're a**** Good Man, Charlie Brown;****"**** songs like Paramore's "Brighter" and Skillet's "The Last Night" are also especially helpful.**

**I want to give a great many thanks to leiahlaloa, for her amazing beta-skill****s**** and help throughout this story. Unlike its predecessor, I didn't have this fully written before I started posting; I've decided that I won'****t do that again; it doesn't work for me. It also makes it easier for said beta – though it won't serve to distract her during h****omework or classes like this story**** seemed to do.**

**That being said, I still intend to write the story of how Molly came to this point in her non-human life – and it's going to be very different for me. It will be able to serve as a standalone, my own thoughts as to the early days of a vampire's life in Stephenie Meyer's ****universe.**** I have several other ideas on paper, most of which I intend to pursue – as long as my readers are patient! (Though, receiving a PM or review every once in a while yelling at me to get writing would be great.)**** I don't have any little "extras" planned for this story, though if I revisit this later, who knows?**

**Finally, I apologize for my absence recently – in reading and writing fan fiction. Aside from the huge distraction that is National Novel Writing Month (****which I completed, by the way!), I've also been branching out into reading fics from other universes, because Twilight doesn't really rule the world (as much as we'd all like that).**

**For the last time, reviews are greatly appreciated. Any final thoughts? Anything I need to clear up? Is there anything you think I should work on in my writing****, or that you'd like to see improved upon in my next pieces?**

**Much love,**

**Judith, a.k.a****. thesunshinekid**

**P.S: Is there anyone else out there secretly pretending not to be excited for the Spice Girls reunion tour? Ah, the music of my youth**** (well, the younger youth)**


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